


State of the Union

by HGRising



Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction, Sports RPF
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Fluff, M/M, Other pairings if you squint, Schweinski, Some angst, gotta be a little realistic, luki, mein hase, mentions of manu/thomas, mentions of micha/frings, mentions of sami/mesut, mentions of so many more, seriously, the germany nt is an orgy at this point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-15 12:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 100,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2228985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HGRising/pseuds/HGRising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bastian finally gets Lukas to agree to spend his weekend off together without the girls. All they wanted to do was hang out and maybe play some games. But, things fall apart before Lukas can even get on the plane. </p><p>From there, they piece things together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: All dates and events are pretty much made up, but please don’t tell the children that schweinski isn’t real. :(  
> I pretty much got everything I wanted to address about their ridiculously frustrating/adorable behavior in my other story, so this is pretty much just for funsies. ^^ Still riding the schweinski high. Hope you all enjoy.

**State of the Union**

.

Bastian sat in his bed with his eyes fixed on his phone. The glow of the screen bounced off his face, illuminating only him in the large room. Quickly, he sent a reply to his friend who was also up late that night.

‘You playing Tottenham the 27th?’

_-Uh… Yes?_

‘Check the matchups once in a while, Poldi.’

_-I just get on the bus when they tell me to. Aha._

‘Tommy’s been a bad influence on you.’

_-How could he be? He’s on your team._

‘Eh. The last couple of months were long enough.’

_-Not long enough to me. ;)_

_-Just asked Mesut. He said yes._

‘Why the fuck is Mesut saying yes? Are you with him now??’

_-Yeah. We got an away game Sunday, and I’m sharing with him._

‘Oh.’

‘You getting the 28th off then or what?’

_\- If we win. So, definitely. Why?_

‘I’m playing in Cologne that weekend. Perfect time to visit home. ;)’

_-I’ll be tired after the match though._

‘Get Per to drop you off at the station. He owes us.’

_-For what?_

‘For retiring.’

_-That’s cruel. And, it’s like a billion hours by train._

‘Fly.’

_-That’s two hours at least. You know I hate flying._

‘Come on, Poldi.’

‘Monika won’t mind. She’s probably tired of your ugly face.’

_-What’s that say about you if you want to see me?_

‘You’re right. For once. I should get my head checked. Too many headers.’

_-I get a couple of weeks off for Christmas and New Years. I’ll come home then._

‘That’s too long.’

‘Come on, Poldi.’

‘Come on.’

‘Come on.’

‘Come on!’

‘Come on, Poldi. :( Answer me.’

‘I’m getting lonely.’

‘Poldi?’

‘Poldi!’

‘Luki! :O’

‘:-* ?’

‘Come visit me already.’

‘Luki… Please.’

‘I miss you? :-*’

_-If I come back that weekend, will you stop spamming me? It’s late, and Mesut said he’s going to kick me out of the room if you don’t. And then he’s going to go to your place and kick your ass._

‘Okay. We can plan tomorrow. :)) Goodnight?’

_-Eh, not tired yet. Maybe we can talk a little more._

Bastian tried to stifle a chuckle but then remembered that Sarah was off doing a shoot for _Brigitte_ in the capital. Then he also remembered that he still wouldn’t have had to hide anything since he would have more than likely been sleeping on the couch after his comment about how it was _just_ a photo shoot. She’d done plenty of them before. What made this one different? Then they got into an argument about how he never paid attention to her anymore or listened to her.

He got a headache every time he thought about it, so he just stopped.

Turning over, Bastian replied excitedly, asking him about his day as if they didn’t message each other throughout the day anyway. Lukas always found something new tell him or some silly observation that he’d share with Bastian, and he would always have to fight from grinning or else the other guys would tease him about whether he was texting ‘his girlfriend or Sarah.’

Fortunately or not, they all knew how close he and Poldi were, so they didn't even bat an eye. And, if they didn't before, they had to have now, even the younger ones, after all the pictures from the World Cup. It was a running joke amongst them all. 

Finally, he got a curious reply after asking Poldi if Per was serious about getting his coaching license.

_-Basti. It’s Mesut. I’m using Poldi’s phone right now. How’s it going? How’s Sarah? How’s Germany? Good? Shame we couldn’t spend your birthday with you. Anyway, if you don’t mind, fucking stop writing love notes to Poldi already. I keep hearing buzzing and giggling every damn minute from his fucking bed._

He supposed, it really was getting late and he had to get up early tomorrow, too. But, he couldn't resist teasing Mesut just a little bit.

‘Sorry, Mesut.’

_-Just go to sleep._

‘Okay.’

‘Hey, did you hear how Sami’s club cut his asking price? Your club was looking for people, right? Just a thought. Night! Sorry again.’

_-Wait. What?_

_-Basti. Are you serious?_

_-Basti! Answer me._

_-Pick up your phone, Schweinsteiger. I know you’re not sleeping._

_-If you want to keep flirting with your fucking precious Poldi during practice or any other time, then answer me. Otherwise, I’m getting the coaches to confiscate his phone tomorrow._

_-Hey, Basti. Can you text Mesut back? He’s freaking out… and whining…and won’t stop shaking me._

Laughing as he read the messages, Bastian figured he'd had enough fun and wrote, ‘Fine. Just tell him to calm down and that I wasn’t joking.’

_-Okay._

‘Did it work?’

_-Kind of. He asked me what room Wenger was in before running out. I don’t think he or anyone else is going to be happy with him tomorrow. He kind of ran down the halls screaming. What were you two talking about?_

‘Nothing. He’ll be fine. Wanna Skype now since Mesut’s not coming back soon?’

_-Sarah won’t mind?_

‘Sarah’s doing a shoot in Berlin.’

 _-Okay then._ :) _See you soon._

Bastian rolled out of bed to find his laptop. He settled back in to his sheets and laid on his side, figuring that if he was going to fall asleep talking to Lukas then he was going to fall asleep somewhere more comfortable than a chair, damn it. He had learned his lesson the first few times.

Almost immediately, he got a notification from Lukas requesting a video chat. Quickly, he checked his face and hair in his webcam.

Satisfied, he clicked accept and was met with a shirtless Poldi. Instead of greeting his friend normally, he blurted, “Where’s your shirt?”

Lukas shrugged and grinned at Bastian through the camera. “I was in bed and trying to sleep.”

He thought back to all the times they shared a room and Lukas would refuse to wear more than his underwear to bed. It made sense, he supposed. “I would’ve waited for you to put something on.”

“Why? Does it bother you?”

“No, but I was just thinking about you, idiot.”

“Aww, I was thinking about you, too, Schweini.”

“Shut up. You know what I meant.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Shut up,” he repeated. “So what do you want to do when you get to Cologne? I can pick you up from the station or airport or wherever.”

“Airport. I’m booking a flight since we only have that weekend. Is Sarah okay with me staying over? Or should I get a hotel, too?”

“Of course you’re staying over. She’ll be fine. I’ll tell her later when she’s not so mad at me.”

“… Basti. You two aren’t fighting again, are you?"

"It's not a big deal."

"You didn’t spend your birthday together, though.”

“You didn’t spend my birthday with me either. Are we fighting?”

“Shut up. That’s different.”

“How?”

“She’s your fucking girlfriend, maybe?”

“You jealous?” He said with a sly grin.

“Basti…”

“She says she’s ‘fine.’”

Lukas grimaced exaggeratedly, and Bastian couldn't help but laugh. “What’d you do?”

“I wasn’t impressed enough with the people she was modeling for? I don’t know. It’s not like I know anything about magazines, especially the fashion ones.”

“Says the guy who owns a million scarves.”

“They’re all unique, Poldi! Each one.”

Lukas rolled his eyes. “Be careful, Basti. No one else will put up with your bullshit.”

“Asshole. You do. And, what about you? Is Monika still putting up with _your_ bullshit?”

“Same old, same old,” he shrugged again.

“She and Louis still at her parents’?”

“Yeah, but she said she’s coming back soon cause Louis is starting school.”

“You guys decided to put him into a school in London?”

“Not exactly. We’re still talking about it.”

“Talking?”

“Loudly.”

“Ah.”

“You two are gonna be okay, though, right?”

Bastian saw Lukas’ smile drop before a less genuine one took its place, and his heart clenched. Very rarely did that happen, but it never failed to move him.

“Yeah. Like always. We’ll get over it.”

“You will,” he agreed diplomatically, not wanting to upset his friend by pointing out that it always seemed like he and Monika were fighting nowadays, a far cry from their honeymoon period from years earlier.

He and Monika married relatively young. And, as someone who was in a committed relationship for going on eight years, he thought they were too young. But they had Louis when they were even younger. Too young to know anything, really.

He didn’t tell anyone other than God, but he thought they married because of Louis, loveable as he was, and not because they wanted to be with each other forever. Sure, they cared about each other a lot as well as Louis; that much was obvious. But they acted more like brother and sister to him than anything. Hell, Monika’s brother’s name _was_ Lukas. That had to get awkward in the bedroom, but that was an entirely different subject that he wouldn’t ever want to touch.

He would have voiced his thoughts at that very moment and risked his friend’s anger, but pointing out the fault in Lukas' relationship when his own wasn't doing much better was essentially calling the kettle black. Instead, he opted to change the subject to something lighter and fitting of three in the morning.

He asked, “So, how much trouble do you think Mesut’s going to get in?”

.

September came quicker than he expected but still slower than he would've liked, and he was counting down the days till Lukas’ plane would land. Just three more to go, and he was already skipping up and down the field. If he weren’t playing so well, his teammates would’ve told him and his annoyingly good mood to fuck off.

Unfortunately, on the day of, his phone delivered devastating news in the form of a short text message.

 _-Bad news, Basti. Can’t come after all_.

That was what Bastian received after putting the final touches on his apartment as Sarah rolled her eyes before leaving him to stay at her friend’s.

He didn't take it well. But, before he could voice his frustration, his phone buzzed with another message.

_-Really sorry. Moni says I can’t skip counseling._

Ah, right. Lukas and Monika had recently begun going to see a counselor for their apparent marriage woes. He had initially been as supportive as anyone would be after hearing about the troubling development in his friend’s marriage, but it didn’t mean he liked it now. Not even close.

In the face of Lukas' more than legitimate and understandable reason, Bastian breathed deeply while counting to ten before leaving his message unreplied.

On the pitch, he worked off his pent up anger against the current Cologne players rather than the former Cologne player he was supposed to be meeting that night.

Finally, in the locker room, he was composed enough to write back a reply as he sat alone. The other players sensed the obvious change in his attitude and steered clear. Not even Thomas dared approached, covertly sneaking looks at him from behind Manuel whenever possible during the bus ride back to Munich.

Lying, he had written, ‘It’s okay. I understand.’

Moments later, he received a response.

_-Don’t be like that, Basti. It’s not like I want to go._

‘Like what? I told you I understand.’

_-I couldn’t watch the entire match, but I caught a few clips of you playing. I felt sorry for them…_

‘Fine, I was mad. But, I’m okay now.’

_-I’m really sorry, Basti._

_-Mein hase?_

‘It’s okay.’

_-Stop saying that. I feel like shit already._

At that, Bastian felt a tiny bit remorseful for acting so passive aggressively and wrote back a kinder, more sincere reply. He knew his friend was having a hard enough time as it was. He had told him so on more than one occasion.

‘Stop, Luki.’—He knew Lukas would believe that he wasn’t mad at him anymore if he used _this_ nickname for him—‘I’m the one who asked you to come anyway. I’ll see you next time.’

 _-:(_ _I wanted to see you, too, though._

‘You saw me on TV.’

_-Fuck off._

_-Hey, you should come here!_

‘Well, you make it hard to say no.’

_-I’m serious. You’re not doing anything over there anyway… cause we had plans. Sorry again. And Sarah was already expecting to not see you. It’s perfect._

‘Aren’t you going to be busy with the counseling?’

_-That’s only for an hour and a half tomorrow. Before and after that, it should be okay. Sound good?_

_-If you come today, we’ll have even more time._

Bastian thought about it for a moment.

‘Pick me up at the train station. I’ll tell you the time when I figure it out.’

_-:D Aha._

_._

Bastian sought the earliest train out of the city, and a few hours later, he was stuck in a cramped second class seat with a drooling geriatric woman who kept trying to paw him in her ‘sleep.’ Honestly, the things he did for Lukas. He wouldn’t even be able to get any sleep, fearing the woman’s wandering hands.

However, he was too high strung for sleep anyway, thinking about how he was going to get to see Lukas in a few short hours.

_-When are you getting here?_

‘Four more hours.’

_-I got the beer you liked the last time you were here._

‘Good. Everything else over there tastes like piss.’

_-I didn’t know!_

‘If you drank, you would have. That reminds me, you owe me a drink.’

_-For what?_

‘Missing my birthday.’

_-Moni needed me to stay with Louis so she could go out with her friends... I told you happy birthday at least._

‘Sending me a message using Twitter does not count.’

_-But you liked it!_

‘I like when people drink with me more.’

_-Fine, but I can’t get drunk. Moni’s already pissed at me cause you’re coming._

‘Seriously, Poldi? It’s too late for me to turn back, and I’m not the one driving this thing.’

_-It’ll be fine. She’ll get over it._

‘Tell me sooner next time, dumbass. Does Louis know?’

_-Yeah, he’s excited to see his uncle._

‘Of course he is. I’m great. You owe me two drinks now, by the way.’

_-Why??_

‘For not letting me know Monika was pissed at you because now she’s going to be mad at me. I get enough of that from Sarah.’

_-It’s okay. You won’t even see her._

Curiously, he checked the screen again to make sure he had read properly. Leaning back into his chair, he bumped shoulders with the woman, and he stared at her in slight apprehension. By the intent look on her face, she had given up pretending to sleep and was obviously trying to read over his shoulder. Scowling, Bastian scooted further away from the woman and angled his phone away from her line of sight.

‘Why not?’

_-I’ve been living in a hotel since we started therapy. The asshole in charge said it’d help._

‘What? Why didn’t you tell me before?’

_-How was I supposed to bring it up?_

‘I don’t know. But, next time, you can just come out and say it, okay? You can talk to me.’

_-Yes, mein hase. Whatever you say. You’re always right. So pretty. The prettiest._

‘Shut up. When I get off this fucking train, you better be waiting for me.’

 _-I’m already at the station_.

‘Why?’

_-Nothing else better to do._

‘What? Did your team lose or something?’

_-Screw you. 3-1, Schweinsteiger. Better than your 2-1._

‘It was against your old team and your home team, asshole.’

_-Damn it._

.

True to his word, Lukas was waiting for him just outside when the doors slid open. Bastian gratefully took the necessary steps further and further away from the hag who somewhat successfully tried to molest him on the train and rested his weary eyes on Lukas, gaining energy from the _joie de vivre_ that his best friend always seemed to emanate.

Even before he dropped his bags, Lukas had engulfed him into a tight hug, and the straps dug into his arms oddly.

“Hey, Basti, come on,” he said, clapping him on the back and knocking him slightly off balance before letting him go. He grabbed Basti’s travel bag and began to lead him to his car. “Tired?”

“Nah,” he answered honestly. He felt like he could climb a mountain or fight a bear now. Being near Lukas always made him felt that way, like he could do anything. “Food then games?”

“You came hundreds of miles to London for British food and video games?”

Pinching his cheek, Bastian asked teasingly, “Jealous? It’s okay, Poldi. I’ll have time for you, too.”

“Shut up. I’m jealous of Sarah. She gets all this time away from you. Where’d she go, anyway?”

“I think she said she was going to party with her other friends and then stay there for the rest of the weekend.”

"You don't know for sure?"

"No. Why's it matter?"

“No reason... But, you aren’t even a little afraid?”

“Of what?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

Bastian looked at him appraisingly, wondering what he could have possibly meant and why he was so interested in what Sarah was doing. Still, he let it drop, declaratively stating, “I only fear the day I can’t play football.”

An odd expression flittered across his face, but Bastian missed it. Nodding, Lukas agreed and shrugged, “We’re not as young as we used to be. More than ten years. That day is coming up soon. Do you ever wonder when...? Do you think about it? Have you planned to...”

“No. No. Just no. Don’t you start on that, too. You’re not allowed to leave. We’re already down Per, Miro, and Philipp,” he groaned. This obviously wasn't a better choice for conversation for either of them.

Ruffling his hair, Lukas snorted, catching him by surprise. “I’ll retire when you do, old man.”

.

After getting into a slightly physical argument—one that involved childish shoving—about who was going to retire first, Lukas took Bastian to his favorite restaurant. He always shared everything he could with his best friend, and this was no exception. He had discovered just after the last time Bastian had visited and couldn't wait to show him since then. 

There, he and Bastian toasted to Bastian's belated birthday, to their championship, and to their future. In Lukas’ hotel room, they continued their celebrations with the beer Lukas bought for him, and Lukas ended up drinking past his promised two drinks with no thoughts but to keep Bastian happy. 

.

The next day, Monika and the guy he was paying an exorbitant amount of money for were having a field day over Bastian’s arrival. Bastian, who was most likely just sitting in his hotel room, the one they forced him to rent out, playing the few video games he managed to save from Monika’s not unwarranted wrath. Really. It’s not like Bastian's presence was hurting anyone.

He wanted them to just stop _talking_. His head was pounding, and he had no idea why people would do this to themselves on a regular basis.

“Lukas!” The good Doctor Hanson admonished when his eyelids grew too heavy to keep him looking alert.

“What?” He grunted.

“We were talking about how you and Monika needed to communicate more in the future to avoid mistakes like this weekend from happening. Thoughts?”

Lukas looked at the man like he was crazy. “Yeah. Why’d you tell me to move out if you wanted us to talk more?”

“Communication and talking are two different things. And, just like you can tend to not _communicate_ with her when you are living together, you can _communicate_ with her even if you’re not living together.”

“But, wouldn’t it be easier if—”

“Pretend you’re dating again,” he explained.

“We’ve been married for three years. I think I know—”

“Lukas! Please,” Monika interjected tiredly, eyes rimmed with redness. “Take this seriously. I don’t—I just want us to be happy again. You do, too, don't you?”

“We were happy. We are happy. We’re _still_ happy.”

“We barely saw each other for more than a week in the past six months.”

“You were at your parents’ most of the time, and I was in Brazil!” He exclaimed incredulously. “We were busy.”

“I go to my parents’ because I'm upset. You don’t even notice."

“I notice when my wife and son are gone!”

"You notice when it gets in the way of your plans with _Bastian_."

"Don't make this about him, Monika."

She asked suddenly, “Do you even miss us when we're gone? When you're gone?”

“Of course I miss you. I love you. I love Louis. I just don’t understand why we’re talking about this when nothing was wrong before you decided we needed to do this.”

“I didn’t want to be selfish before because Louis needed so much attention from both of us, but he’s starting school now. We can have a little time for ourselves. We can focus on you and me now, Luki.”

Lukas bristled like she touched a nerve. Feeling inexplicably guilty, he said, “Tell me what to do then.”

She stared at him in astonishment, like she'd been saying it the entire time, but he wasn't listening. To be fair, that was probably true. “Just spend some time with me,” she explained in a shying voice. 

“I can do that,” he said automatically.

She seemed to relax a little. “Promise? You’ll really spend more time with me? Alone?”

“I guess. I mean. Yes. But who will watch Louis?”

“I can ask my friends. We can get a babysitter.”

“Okay.”

“Then, tonight," she suggested, growing eager. 

“I can’t tonight,” he said, almost immediately wishing he didn’t. Monika seemed to withdraw immediately. He suddenly wanted the doctor to butt in and just distract Moni from him, but he was just sitting back and watching them. He furrowed his eyebrows, not sure how things had progressed in such a way. Backtracking, he explained, “I mean, Basti’s here. I made him come here. I can’t just leave him alone while we’re out on a date.”

“What, you want to take him with us then?” She wrung her hands at him before aggressively clenching the edge of the so called loveseat.

“No, I just—can’t this wait a few more days?”

“Oh sure! Let's put this off so you can spent time with _him.”_

“Look, Monika. The next few games are in London. I’ll be around plenty, and we can have as many dates as you want before I go away again.”

“Can’t you see him some other time? I’m begging you, Luki.”

Flinching, he averted his eyes.

“Two hours,” she said quietly when he didn’t reply. “Just two. Tonight. Dinner. Is that okay? Can you leave Basti for two hours?”

Lukas felt himself nodding again, claiming, “Whatever you want, Moni.” But, it wasn’t really whatever she wanted. “Basti can even watch Louis.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he’s great with kids.”

A small smile spread over Monika’s face.

Bizarrely, he wondered when he'd seen her smile last.

.

It was a small concession from Lukas objectively, Monika thought. And, in hindsight, she was being a little unreasonable, thinking about it more rationally now. Bastian had come so far just to see Lukas after she made Lukas stay to go to counseling even though Bastian had so little time off during season as well...

She shook her head free of guilt. She was working towards something bigger. For the both of them. For all three of them. The perfect, happy family.

Bastian was his best friend, but she was his _wife._

“Okay,” she affirmed, allowing her smile to grow.

.

_-Don’t be mad._

Bastian sighed, already feeling the impending disappointment. Unlike with Sarah’s message, which he had left unreplied for hours now, he responded as soon as he received it.

‘What’s going on?’

_-Moni wants us to go out to dinner tonight._

‘That’s okay. We didn’t have anything planned anyway. Where does she want to eat?’

_-Us as in me and her, Basti. Alone._

‘Why?’

_-She wants me to spend time alone with her._

_-I’m sorry, Basti._

Honestly, Bastian wanted to throw a tantrum. He had wanted to spend as much time with Lukas before he had to leave, but he understood that his friend had more important things to handle first. He just wished that he was one of those things.

‘It’s okay, Luki.’

_-Stop that._

‘What?’

_-Being so understanding._

‘You want me to get mad?’

He was confused, and he wasn’t in the mood for mind games.

_-No. I’ve just been feeling guilty the entire week, and you’re not helping._

‘But I do understand. We can hang out some other time.’

_-But it’s not as easy to see each other anymore. We’re not even in the same country._

‘We talk.’

_-We text._

‘And Skype. And call. And do the social media thing you taught me.’

_-It’s not the same._

‘Just don’t worry about it, Luki.’

 _-I will anyway, but I have another favor to ask you._ _:(_

‘Don't. What is it?’

_-Can you watch Louis for two hours while me and Moni go out?_

‘Sure thing. Just tell me where and when.’

_-Thank you, Basti. :)  
_

_-Five today? At my apartment?_

‘Okay. I’ll be over at four thirty.’

_-We can go together. I’m heading back to you after I drop Moni off at the apartment._

‘Wouldn’t it make sense for you to start spending more time with her now?’

_-She can wait. It’s just a few hours. She can use the time to get ready. And what kind of friend would I be if I left you alone in my hotel room after telling you to come visit?_

‘The same one I’ve known for the past ten years?’

_-Screw you._

‘You wish.’

_-Hold up. Driving back now. Set up the PlayStation?_

‘Kay. Hurry back.’

_-Yes, mein Hase. See you at home._

Bastian waited about five minutes from Poldi’s last message before contemplating how he should craft his reply to Sarah’s message. Essentially, she had told him that they needed to talk. He was sure he knew what she wanted to talk about. 

Succinctly, he typed out his reply.

‘You're right. Talk to you when I get back.’

.

When Lukas got back, Bastian had the game setup on the wide screen and the controllers just waiting for the two of them to use.

“How’d it go?” He asked, not sure if it was appropriate or not but asking anyway.

“It was fine,” he shrugged in reply. “I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s play before I have to go again.”

Predictably, Bastian had chosen the 2014 FIFA World Cup game, still eager to dominate in the game after dominating in real life. However, his desire to play the game waned slightly at Lukas' response. 

He complied slowly while commenting, “You two alright?”

“We're fine,” he insisted. “Let it go.”

“What’d the counselor say?”

“He told me to tell you to stop being a fucking girl and pick a fucking mode.”

“I just want to know what’s going on,” he said, selecting the Road.

“You don’t have to know. It’s between me and Moni, alright?”

“You’re my best friend. I don’t have to know, but I want to help,” he replied, pressing at the controller’s buttons harder than necessary.

Lukas did the same, glaring at the screen to avoid glaring at Bastian. “I know you do, but I don’t want any.”

“Poldi,” he said, dropping the controller in frustration. “Do you even care?” He was bewildered by his friend’s careless attitude towards his marriage.

“Of course I care. But, I don’t want to talk about it with you.”

“Why not?” He was a little hurt at that. They shared everything.

He sighed, putting down his own controller. “Because I just spent over an hour talking about it.”

“You should want to talk about it,” he pointed out. “It’ll help.”

Closing his eyes, he resigned himself to the subject of the conversation. “How?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But, if you want something, then you just do what you need to.”

“Moni and I don’t need to talk.”

“I wasn’t talking about you and Moni,” he said defensively in confusion. “Err. Not—Uhh—”

“Stop, Basti. I got it. That’s just what the counselor said me and Moni should do. He said we needed to _communicate_ even though he told me to move out!”

“You can still talk to her like this. You just have to put more effort into it.”

“What if I don’t want to?” He confessed, feeling lighter as the shameful thought made itself known. It was a revelation that hit him during their first meeting with the counselor, sitting quietly as Monika talked to the counselor about how she felt about him instead of to him. It was the first sign of many that maybe they didn’t quite work. Them being busy with Louis and him being away so often just masked it.

“... What do you mean, Poldi?”

He didn’t reply, picking up the controller again instead. The screen wasn’t changing, but he still held fast in a ready position.

“Luki?”

“Let’s play, Basti.”

“Luki…”

“It’s just something I’ve been thinking about. Forget it.”

“I can’t. Do you want—”

“I’m sick of talking.”

Bastian eyed Lukas carefully. His mouth was firm and body tense. The controller was tightly grasped, so much so that his knuckles turned white. Still, he couldn’t help but say one last thing before pushing start.

“I’ll support you, Luki. Whatever you want.”

Slowly, Lukas looked over to Bastian. Nodding, he adjusted himself to sit in a more comfortable position, leaning against the foot of the bed to support his back. Bastian mirrored him, and the two played quietly until Bastian scored and they cheered like they won the World Cup all over again.

.

“Uncle Basti! Daddy!” Louis screamed, running to meet them at the door.

Louis wrapped his arms around Bastian’s legs and stared up at him with red cheeks.

“No hug for your daddy?”

“I see you all the time, daddy. I never get to see Uncle Basti!”

“My own son,” Lukas sighed. “Traitor.”

“It’s not his fault he knows quality, Luki,” he said, hugging the boy back. So much like Lukas. He didn’t want to let go and half carried half helped him walk over to the living room and sat down, gathering him into his lap.

Following the two of them, Lukas took a seat on the couch as well, trying to pull his son into his own lap. When Louis resisted, grabbing onto Bastian’s neck tightly, Lukas resorted to tickling.

Out of breath and laughing, Louis screamed, “That’s cheating, daddy! Help, Uncle Basti, help! Daddy’s cheating.”

Chuckling while Louis squirmed against him under Lukas’ assault, Bastian launched himself forward in full retaliation, sandwiching Louis between them as he targeted all the spots he knew Lukas was sensitive.

Louis followed suit, hands flying out and scrambling to tickle anyone he could get his hands on.

“Give up, Luki. It’s two against one.”

His reply was cut off when a distinctly feminine voice called out from in front of them, “What are you guys doing?”

Lukas froze and felt Bastian do the same. Looking at Monika, who looked back at him with inquisitive eyes, he tried to give her a comforting grin, his usual grin.

Righting all three of them, Lukas told her, “Just teaching Uncle Basti a lesson, Moni. Are you ready?”

.

Accepting the reply, Monika coached her face into a more pleasant expression as she twirled once to let him get a look at her. “Yep!” She hesitated, eying his jeans and sweater critically. While looking quite handsome, it was a lot more casual than she expected. “Uh, do you need some time?”

“No. I’m good.”

“Okay…” She nodded slowly. “Where are we going?”

“You know. The place I took you on our anniversary. You liked it, right?”

She clasped her hands together excitedly. “Oh! Peach Tree? They have the best ice cream.”

“That’s where we went last night, right Poldi?” Bastian asked from the couch, settling down again with Louis, who had taken to mimicking Bastian’s actions, leaving one arm against the couch and his leg crossed over the other. “They let us try their new nutella ice cream because Poldi was a regular. It was amazing. Manu was so jealous when we sent him a picture. Can you bring some back for me?”

Lukas was midway through a nod when Monika shot him a glare.

“You took him _there_?”

“Of course. It’s my favorite.”

“You took Bastian to the same place you took me for our anniversary?”

“Yeah... It’s my favorite.”

“You really don’t see anything wrong with that?”

“No?”

Monika caught herself, biting her tongue until she tasted bitter metal. Smiling at Lukas, she told him, “You’re right. Forget it. I’m being crazy. Let’s just go.”

.

Lukas glanced at Bastian in wonder at her odd behavior, but Bastian was busy awkwardly pretending not to witness or notice their argument.

“Okay," he said finally.

“To _anywhere else_ ," she prompted.

“Okay, Moni,” he said again, kissing her on her cheek.

She nodded curtly and said goodbye to Bastian. Kissing Louis on his forehead, she walked out the door, expecting Lukas to follow her.

Lukas hesitated. He knew he should follow her, but he had the overwhelming instinct that tended towards self preservation. Following Monika seemed like the path towards pain.

“You should go,” Bastian advised, putting his hands over Louis’ ears, as if it mattered at this point. To his credit, Louis simply took his own hands and put it over Bastian’s ears, tongue poking out between his teeth as he focused on balancing himself on his knees in order to reach.

Lukas kissed Louis as well and ruffled his hair. Spontaneously, he ruffled Bastian’s hair, too, laughing when Louis broke out in giggles.

“Bye, Basti.”

“Bye, Luki. Get me some ice cream anyway from wherever you’re going,” he whispered. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“Me, too,” Louis piped up.

Lukas rolled his eyes. “Order takeout.”

“I want ice cream.”

“Me, too,” Louis repeated, pushing against his father’s arm.

Running his hand through Louis’ hair again, he said, “I’ll see what I can do, big guy.”

Louis cheered, “Yay!”

Bastian stuck out his bottom lip. “What about me?”

Grinning, he replied, “What are you, a baby?”

“You think so? Huh?”

Quickly, he pulled Lukas into a headlock.

“Go, Uncle Basti, go!”

“Don’t encourage him, Louis.”

They scuffled for a few moments before Lukas heard footsteps coming back and his wife's voice.

“Seriously, Lukas?!”

They had the decency to look ashamed.

“Sorry, Moni.”

“Sorry, Monika.”

“Just... Let’s go,” she whispered, holding the door open for him.

Moments after the door closed, and the two had gone on their way, Louis asked Bastian, “Are mommy and daddy fighting?”

Panicking, he quickly said, “I'm hungry. You want to go out for ice cream? We can go to Peach Tree.”

“Yay! You're the best, Uncle Basti!”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I just think Louis is so adorable. Just like his two daddies. /cough. Also, I'm so sorry to Monika and Sarah; they look super sweet ~~for beards~~ but... casualties.  
>  Gah. I'm sure they're lovely, and I'm sorry they have to suffer and be portrayed in such a way, especially since they're supportive of basti and poldi... respectively.  
> Anyway! Thanks for reading, especially to those who read/commented on/liked my last fic. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: In commemoration of Captain Bastian Schweinsteiger and his First Lady, Lukas Podolski.

**State of the Union**

.

“What were you thinking, Lukas?” Monika asked. The doors had barely been slammed shut when she spoke.

He sighed heavily. He had hoped against hope she wouldn’t say anything more, and they’d enjoy the evening. “I didn’t think it’d matter.”

“I was waiting for you,” she insisted, anger spiking. She thought, if he just apologized and stopped fighting her, then they could move past it. But, he didn’t.

“Moni, it was less than five minutes.”

She tentatively put her hand over his on the gear shift as if willing him to understand. “I’m _always_ waiting.”

Looking over to her briefly before starting the car, he said, “I’m usually on time, Moni.”

“Not like that, Lukas. It’s… I don’t know. I waited for you to get your career together. I waited to marry you. I waited for Louis to grow up. I waited for you to come back after all the matches and tournaments. I’ve been waiting for you to come around in therapy, too, I guess… I’m just tired of waiting.” Her breaths left her body in shudders. Sneaking a look at him from the corner of her eyes, she continued, “And then, I see you and Bastian like how you always are—”

Their eyes met when he spared her another curious glance. “Like what?”

She pulled her hand from over his and let it flop down into her lap, looking away first. “Just happy. You’re so happy with him. It made me think about how happy you're supposed to be with me. And how I’ve been trying to fix us but you keep fighting me. It hurts. And then, it feels like it’s my fault, and I’m just making it worse, Lukas. It hurts so much. But, I can’t stop. I won’t. I can’t keep living like that, waiting and pretending nothing’s wrong.”

“I’m happy with you,” he stated evenly.

She snorted inelegantly. Her anger took another spike, plateauing there. His lies provoked her, made her ire grow. Monika was a bundle of raw nerves, and everything Lukas poked and prodded at her, exposing more and more. There was a nearly instantaneous shift from anger to hurt to indignation and back to anger. “You looked a lot happier with Bastian a few minutes ago.”

He shrugged off her obvious attempt to goad him. “I’m happy my favorite people are all in one place. Bastian, Louis, and you. That’s all.”

Stiffly, she retorted, “So when he leaves, you won’t be so happy anymore?”

He tapped his fingers against the wheel, annoyed now that she wasn’t letting it go, wasn’t just taking his word for it. She wasn’t being fair. He didn’t understand why she was acting like this. Spending his time with her instead of Bastian was supposed to be him doing what she wanted. He was trying to make her happy, but she was just throwing everything back in his face. Exasperated, he told her, “I will still be happy, Moni. I have you and Louis. You make me happy. You both do.”

“I feel like we aren’t enough, though, Lukas. All the time, I feel like I’m not enough. People tell me I’m not good enough, and I try not to listen to them or the papers. But then, I see pictures of you and Bastian, and you’re just so happy. It makes me think… I don’t know what it makes me think, but it doesn’t feel right, and I know you know why,” she babbled accusingly, trying to keep a clear head to explain at the same time despite the overwhelming need to cry threatening to overtake her.

An errant thought came into his mind through her jumbled words. “Are you jealous of Basti?”

One of her hands found itself tangled in her hair and she tugged, pulling at her scalp. “No! Maybe.” She paused to think of how to phrase her words before speaking again. “It’s unusual for two people to be as close as you two are, and I can’t help but think that it’s even worse when I’m not around.”

“We act the same whether you’re there or not. I’ve known him longer than you, Moni. That’s how we are,” he explained as patiently as he could despite the incredulity he felt.

Quickly, she countered, “That’s just it. And, it’s not just me, Sarah thinks—”

He gripped the steering wheel hard. She couldn’t have been serious. “You’ve been talking to Sarah about this?”

“Sarah and I are _friends,_ too.”

Lukas’ jaw dropped in shock. “Don’t bring her into this, Moni,” he warned, losing his patience and calm. “Don’t bring either of them into this. This is our problem. You shouldn’t create more trouble for them.”

Her hand dropped before she could collect herself and crossed her arms tightly against her chest instead for security, but it wasn’t working. “He’s a part of your life, Lukas. Right now it feels like more so than me. So, I can’t not. Half the fights we get into are because of him.”

He grunted and replied in Bastian’s defense. “This isn’t his fault.”

“It’s all of our faults, including him.”

Curtly, he asked, “How?”

“You’re always talking to him instead of me even when he’s not around. You two text constantly, and if you’re not on the phone with him, you’re videochatting. He’s the reason why we’re having this fight right _now_. Do you realize that, Lukas?” She glared at him, arms still locked around her middle.

His eyes snapped to hers immediately. Raising his voice angrily, something he rarely did off the pitch, Lukas corrected her. “This is not _Basti’s_ fault. We’re having a fight right now because you won’t forgive me for making you wait for five fucking minutes while I was talking to my _son_ and my _best friend_.”

“It’s not the five minutes. It’s—”

He harshly stopped her with a cutting motion. With a dangerously low voice, Lukas pointed out, “You get me all the time, Monika. He gets me when we play for the national team and sometimes when we have a break, like _now_. But, instead of hanging out with him, I’m with you. And, he was okay with that. He’s even taking care of our son because I asked him to! Even if it’s not because of me making you wait, you would’ve found something else to fight about. That’s what _you’ve_ been doing, Moni. Who _cares_ if Louis doesn’t get into that private school or not? He’s six!”

“You don’t get it, Luki! You—”

Slamming the steering wheel, the car jerked and he yelled, “Don’t call me Luki!”

She closed her mouth, stupefied and slightly scared. Slowly, she recovered from the shock, feeling a prickling sensation behind her eyes. Lukas never yelled at her like that even when they were arguing before, and she found she didn’t like it. Jutting her chin out at him, she snapped back coldly and just as viciously. “Why shouldn’t I? Bastian does it all the time.”

Lukas tried to find the right words. “He’s…”

“Different? He is, Lukas,” she agreed with a fiery gleam in her eye that matched his dark one. “He’s a friend. _I_ am your _wife_ ,” she emphasized, turning away from him. She couldn’t bear looking at him now. Tears fell, but she refused to let him know. “I’m more important than him... I should be.”

Lukas was silent, but she felt the car pull to a stop and looked outside. She saw only apartment complexes. Behind them, a few angry motorists honked at them before swerving to get around.

“Lu—”

“I should go.” He unbuckled himself from his seat and unlocked the door.

“Go?” Her eyes widened dramatically in response. “Where?” They were parked in the middle of the street _in the middle of nowhere_.

“I don’t know. Around. I need to be alone,” he told her, mumbling his words as if he wasn’t too sure himself.

All at once, Monika protested, “No, Lukas. You need to stay here and talk to me. We need to communicate better. Dr. Hanson said so. I can’t do that if you aren’t here.”

“Fuck Hanson. I know me, Moni. I need this right now… Just let me… I need to be able to be alone. Just for a little.”

He was telling the truth. He couldn’t stop thinking. Mind already into over drive. He needed space to process everything. All the thoughts competing in his mind, competing for his attention. Monika’s words hit him harder than she knew. She said that she was more important, but Lukas hesitated to agree. But, she was right. She should have been. And, really, wasn’t that evidence enough?

He needed to get out. Quick. Escape. Run away.

She watched in disbelief as he moved to open his door. Rashly, her hand clamped around his arm to stop him. Her fingers dug into his skin as desperately as she was, leaving half circles on his skin. Her voice rang with panic, no longer angry but just afraid. “ _No_. Don’t you dare leave, Lukas.”

“I need to, Moni,” he begged, not wanting to add to her pain by dragging out another pointless argument ether. “Take the car. I’ll walk.”

Breathing hotly, her fingers loosened around his arm. She was already losing hope. Hoarsely, in a last ditch attempt, she whispered, “If you leave now, then we’re over, Lukas. Over.” It was an ultimatum she regretted immediately as soon as it left her mouth. Her wide eyes focused into the square of his back.

He paused briefly but didn’t look back at her.

She saw every muscle in his back tighten and knew the answer before he even spoke.

Stepping out, he called back to her with true regret. “I’m sorry, Moni.”

.

The street lights were blurry through her lashes, but she made it safely back to the place she had tried so hard to make feel like home. She hated it there, though. For three years, she hated it. She missed her parents. She missed the past. It seemed so wonderful before. But, she stayed there for Lukas.

She stumbled up the steps and inserted the key. Twisting it clumsily, the door refused to open. She banged and kicked at the unyielding door, wishing it were Lukas. Suddenly, catching her off guard as she swung her weight against it, the door swung open, and she fell in.

She saw him then. Trying to pick herself up off the floor, she tumbled. From her vantage point, she could see his shoes and settled on glaring at them.

“Uh, sorry Monika. I thought you were, uh, having some trouble. Louis and I brought back that nutella ice cream for you. It’s in the freezer. Louis is taking a nap now,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “And, yeah.”

She took a break from staring at shoes to stare at the face to whom the shoes belonged. Did he even know? Did it matter?

“I hate you,” she finally stated dispassionately from the floor. “Get out.”

.

Bastian nodded as he awkwardly walked past her, locking the door behind him. Lukas had already told him what happened. More accurately, he sent a short message proclaiming that he and Monika were going to get a divorce. There was little else in the way of explanation. He'd leave that for later after making sure his friend was alright. 

.

An hour or so later, Louis came out of his bedroom to see that Monika had moved little after collapsing in front of the doorway.

“Hi, mommy. Are you playing a game? Where’s Uncle Basti?”

“Probably with your father,” she answered bitterly. Biting her lip, she realized who she was talking to and quickly fixed a motherly smile onto her face instead. Her eyes were softer when she asked, “Don’t worry about them. You want to eat some more ice cream and then sleep with mommy tonight?”

“But I’m not tired anymore.”

“Then I’ll read you anything you want until you are,” she offered, still smiling.

His boyish features lit up in joy. “Really? Yay! This is the best day ever. Can we wait for daddy and Uncle Basti?”

“No. They... aren't coming back tonight,” she replied with a brittle voice. “It’ll just be us two. So, wash up now, sweetie, and I’ll scoop us both some ice cream. Then we can read in bed.”

“Okay, mommy,” he said obediently, running off to wash his hands.

Later that night, when the lights were off and Louis had fallen asleep, the ice cream had lost its magic, and there was no more numbing reprieve from the cold treat. When she brushed the lock of hair from across Louis’ eyes, she felt the pain bloom from her chest, rooted in her heart, and wished she wasn’t still waiting.

.

Not quite sure how to get to Lukas’ hotel, Bastian flagged down a cab. But, before heading to the hotel, he made a quick stop to pick up some food for Lukas. He doubted his friend had thought much about feeding himself and hoped he wouldn’t be put off by his selection.

Then, he wondered how Lukas was going to get back or if he was going to even be back. He hadn’t returned any of his messages or calls. Eventually, his calls even went straight to voice mail.

Bastian had no idea where he might go in the big city. He didn’t even know who Lukas knew here other than his teammates. Taking a chance, he left a message for Per and Mesut and asked them if Lukas was with them. This, of course, was met with concerned replies but no idea as to where Lukas could be.

He thanked them and told them he and Lukas got into a stupid fight. They’d understand. It wouldn’t be the first time they were acting like immature kids. Unsurprisingly, the two accepted the explanation but didn’t give up the opportunity to tease him. He and Lukas would pay for this later, but they’d deal with it later as well.

The cab driver dropped him off in front of the hotel and thankfully only asked for an autograph. Paying the man and handing him back the autograph, Bastian gathered the takeout bags and strode into the lobby.

Almost instantly, Bastian spotted a familiar customized cap. Aha. Walking quietly over to where he sat in the corner of the lobby, Bastian whispered quietly to him, not wanting to startle him, “Didn’t think you’d be here.”

Lukas cracked a smile at Bastian’s voice but didn’t turn to face him. “Remembered you didn’t have a key.”

“You could’ve just returned my calls.”

“Sorry. Phone’s dead.”

“Ah.”

He didn't bring up all the calls that he knew went through. It was too weird. Lukas wasn’t usually so… listless. Bastian didn’t like it at all. “Got you some food,” he said in a pathetic attempt to cheer him up. “It’s that caramelle pasta from Peach Tree. If you don’t want it, I can get something else.”

“No,” Lukas said, getting up. “Sounds great. Thanks.”

.

In the hotel room, there was a lull in conversation as Lukas reheated his meal. He already tucked the dessert away in the freezer.

“You want to talk about it?”

“Fuck, no,” he snapped. Instantly, he apologized, “Sorry, Basti. Just, not right now.”

“It’s okay, Luki.” Bastian contemplated his options. “Do you want me to leave so you can have some space? I can rent my own room.”

“No,” he said firmly. “You’re leaving tomorrow, and we haven’t hung out at all. We can play games or something.”

“I’ll set it up,” he agreed.

He moved to the TV stationed in front of the hotel bed. He wasn’t expecting Lukas to say anything else and almost jumped out of his skin when he heard his name.

“Basti?”

“Yeah?” Bastian replied, trying to calm his heart. He sat in front of the TV, checking the hookup. Everything was still set up from earlier when they played, so he didn’t have to do much other than wait for Lukas.

“Sorry you wasted your weekend here.”

Bastian turned to fully face Lukas. His smile was missing, but it was definitely Lukas who said it. Shrugging, he stated in a voice that left no room for argument, “I didn’t waste my weekend. I got to see you." Quickly, he added, "And Louis.”

“But you—”

“I would have just ended up spending too much time at the clubs if I didn’t visit,” he assured him.

“But you like the clubs.”

He shrugged again. “It’s boring now. Everything’s the same.”

Lukas sat down next to him, balancing his dinner on his lap while picking up the controller. He was grinning, but Bastian didn’t know why.

“What?” He asked, feeling himself grin in response. Lukas’ happiness was always contagious, and he preferred it this way instead.

Shoving him lightly, Lukas answered, “You’re getting old, Basti. Can you even play this without breaking a hip?”

“Fuck off,” he said, glowering at him. He had been sensitive about his age after multiple articles in _Bild_ had speculated about who else would be retiring next from the national team. Of course, he was mentioned. They claimed he was getting weaker and more frequently  out due to injuries. The game against Cologne should shut them up easily enough, though, he thought, smirking.

Pinching his cheek, Lukas teased, “What’re you thinking now, old man?”

He swatted his hand away. “I’m not an old man!”

“If you say so, mein hase.”

Bastian only grumbled at that, preferring instead to pick up the controller and start the game. “Hurry up.”

“Hey, I’m eating.”

“Eat faster. You know, doing things slower is a sign of aging, too, Poldi. You sure we should be worrying about me?”

“Asshole,” he stated before shoving one last spoonful of pasta into his mouth and hastily grabbing his own controller.

For the next hour, they cheered, booed, and shouted enthusiastically at the screen, moving closer to each other as they got more and more into the game. Soon, they were they were shoulder to shoulder, thighs touching. At one point, Lukas noticed how close they were, but didn’t move away. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. Neither cared how closely they toed the line between normal and not. Neither mentioned it to the other, anyway. And, it felt comforting to know that Bastian was there and would always be there for him.

When Lukas made a particularly impressive goal from more than halfway down the field, Bastian grabbed him and screamed happily in his ear, shaking him by his shoulders. Lukas cheered back, amused by his friend’s overly animated celebration.

Bastian eventually stopped shaking him, and with Bastian’s hands still holding him up, Lukas smiled and relaxed further, dropping his head into the crook of Bastian’s shoulder. His eyes fluttered close against Bastian’s neck, unable to keep them open for any longer. After what happened mere hours ago, which felt like they'd aged him years, he needed this. He needed Bastian to make him feel better. Breathing in deeply, he could smell Bastian. It reminded him of the grass fields they played on. Clean and earthy.

He took another breath and wrapped his arms around Bastian’s middle, nose rubbing against Bastian as he settled in closer. He was so tired, tired enough to fall asleep easily beside him like that if Bastian let him.

He heard Bastian call for him, but he was too exhausted to answer him. Instead, he sighed and curled into himself against Bastian’s side.

All at once, he was up off the ground. He panicked somewhat, not really processing what was going on. Instinctively, he clutched Bastian's shirt for safety. He briefly thought they were flying until he felt his bed beneath him.

Bastian had carried him to his bed. His shoes were removed soon after, and the covers were arranged carefully over him. Without warning, the bed dipped next to him, and he guessed Bastian was going to call it a night, too.

The bed creaked oddly beside him, and Lukas wished he had the strength to open his eyes to see what Bastian was doing. He could sense he was still close.

Then, he heard Bastian whisper lowly into his ear, “Sleep tight, Luki.”

Before Lukas could reply in kind, he felt something warm and soft press against his lips. His heartbeat skipped once, twice. Bastian's lips lingered on him, growing hot and branding him.

“Luki…”

Bastian pulled back, but Lukas still felt his heated body next to him, so close. He was confident he’d be able to touch Bastian if he moved in the slightest way.

Suddenly, he wasn’t tired anymore.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: To be fair, neither Lukas nor Bastian were very good to the girls, so I hope they don’t get any hate for this. I hope I don’t get hate for that matter… ._.  
> Also, waiting for Poldi to write something cute to Basti to congratulate him on his captaincy is painful. Did he do it privately or something??? Cruel.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So. Just waiting for Basti to follow Poldi (and only Poldi) on instagram. Almost certain that Poldi convinced him to create it, too. Love them. /dead.

**State of the Union**

.

After what should have been a night of fitful sleep but wasn’t—his heart settled into a more acceptable rate sometime after Bastian had fallen asleep—, Lukas woke up early, accustomed to the schedule that morning trainings worked into him. Bastian, on the other hand, wasn’t as used to the slight time zone change and was still sleeping soundly, if the even rise and fall of his chest against Lukas was any indication.

More troubling to Lukas, it appeared that sometime during the night, Bastian had thrown both an arm and a leg over him.

As if he had a choice if he wanted to avoid disturbing him, Lukas made sure to feign waking up after him to see just what the _fuck_ his friend was going to do after pulling _that_ last night.

He tilted his chin down to check for any visible signs of consciousness and almost threw himself off the bed in surprise. Bastian’s face was no more than two inches from his, and it wouldn’t take much effort on his part to reduce it to zero. He wondered if Bastian thought the same last night and that was why he did what he did.

Subconsciously, he parted his lips slightly and moved closer, pulling back only when he spot the startlingly dark circles under his eyes, barely a hairsbreadth away.

He furrowed his eyebrows in concern, forgetting what might have transpired if he didn’t catch himself. Bastian was naturally pale and the oh so dark rings highlighted his exhaustion. It was then that he recalled that Bastian had essentially come straight to London to see him _after_ playing a full match. Frowning deeply, he saw the light lines in his face as well, some from laughing and most from worry.

He _knew_ Bayern was putting too much on Bastian’s shoulders, demanding more and more, all the while knowing Bastian was too loyal and too _everything_ to say no to the club he spent most of his life playing for.

On top of that, he now had the weight as the national team’s captain on his shoulders after Philipp retired as well. It was no wonder his short, blond hair was streaked with a silver Lukas didn’t remember a short year ago.

Lukas wished he could do something to help ease his burden, but there was at least one body of water and a handful of countries between them. And, once again, he bitterly thought about his stint with Bayern. The only highlight was Bastian and his other teammates' camaraderie. Other than that, he loathed to think of the time he spent there, languishing on the bench. Not unlike now, he supposed, frowning. 

He moved the arm that wasn’t trapped under Bastian and put it just at the base of his neck, kneading the skin gently to massage away the kinks from stress that he knew were there. Eventually, he worked his way down Bastian’s spine, stopping and resting his hand when Bastian tightened his hold on his side.

When the body atop of him shifted and stirred expectedly soon after, Lukas tried to relax as much as possible.

He first felt Bastian disentangle himself from him, and a slight chill hit him. He shivered reflexively until he felt the covers fall over him. Bastian was _tucking him in_ , and he remembered the night before, resisting the urge to hit his head in confusion or scream or something. So help him God, if Bastian kissed him again, he was going to fucking lose it. Worse, he thought for one fleeting moment that he might want to kiss him back.

Mercifully, Bastian had opted for a shower, leaving Lukas to wonder, yet again, what he was doing. Not only Bastian, but _him_.

His best friend kissed him, and his first instinct was to _see how it went_? He groaned, thinking back to his conversation with Monika. Trying to rationalize it, he conceded that their friendship wasn’t the most conventional, but they were closer than friends, closer than _best_ friends. That meant that even when one of them did something completely unexpected, the other would _not_ freak out.

Their friendship was on the level of Mesut and Sami, or Manu and Thomas, or maybe even Manu and nutella… Micha and Frings… Mario and Marco…—he smacked his forehead with his palm… or a few other pairs that he was sure were secretly dating, fucking, in love or whatever. Just fucking _fuck_.

“You okay?”

He cracked one eye to see Bastian half dressed in a towel hung low on his hips and immediately closed it. Fuck fuck fuck fu— ahh. Shit. Why was this happening now? _Ten years_ , and he hadn’t even thought about it like that before even with the media or his friends’ constant insinuations. Ten freaking years undone. His mind raced to overanalyze every little bit of contact and word they exchanged, and he felt like he was digging himself straight through to the Earth's core.

“Luki?”

The voice came from above him now, and he hesitated to open his eyes, knowing that he’d see Bastian’s face above his.

Keeping his eyes carefully closed, he responded, “Morning.”

“You okay, Poldi?” That time, the voice was accompanied by a warm hand against his forehead.

“Mhmm,” he managed, forcing his mouth into a smile. When the hand left him, he sat up, opening his eyes. Bastian was still next to the bed, eying him, and he struggled to keep his eyes on just his face. In a moment of weakness, his eyes dropped and traced the skin just above what the towel hid. Dropping back to the bed, angry at himself and incredibly confused, he stiffly asked, “Are you leaving soon?”

“Nah. I found a flight for later tonight. You ready to get up now?”

He felt the bed shift and figured Bastian was sitting on the edge. He mumbled, shutting his eyes tighter, “Five more minutes.”

Bastian ran a hand through his wet hair and flicked some water droplets at him. “Get up, lazy.”

“Ngh,” he groaned, turning onto his side and away from Bastian.

“Come on, sleepyhead.”

“Go away.”

Pushing down on his back, he urged, “Come on, come on, come on, come on.”

He lifted his head in surrender. “What are you, twelve?”

“Seven, actually.”

“Too early.”

Grabbing Lukas by his sides, Bastian pulled him up, straining a little. “Great. You’re up. We can go jetskiing if you didn’t have anything else planned.”

Lukas blinked once and then once more. So, he _wasn’t_ going to say anything about last night. Parts of him were relieved and the other parts of him that he didn’t want to think about were disappointed. “Jetski?”

“Yeah. We should do something.”

“We do things,” he protested.

“Other than video games.”

“Five minutes,” he repeated for the sake of not giving in too easily.

Bastian took his arm and hoisted him completely off the bed, supporting him until he resigned himself to doing whatever Bastian was trying to get him to do. He had a feeling the main goal was to distract him from what happened yesterday, and he was grateful. Thinking about that, along with the other thing, was something he could do without for just a little bit longer.

He poked his side. “Come on. Didn’t you say you were going to prove you were better than Neymar?”

Lukas chuckled to himself, thinking back to the many texts he sent Bastian regarding his superior skills on a jetski and in the water, and again he groaned inwardly. He also remembered the picture he posted online with him and ‘Neymar’ on jetskis. He could see how it might have been construed as jealousy as Per suggested before Lukas shoved him towards a goal post during practice.

Rubbing his eyes free of sleep, Lukas swatted him away and padded off to the shower but not before calling back to him in a slightly petulant voice, “I _am_ better, Basti.”

.

Bastian smiled as he watched Lukas walk away, tossing a towel over his shoulder. When he was sure he was gone, he briefly brought the tips of his finger to his bottom lip and rubbed the back of his neck where he felt Lukas’ hand coax him into consciousness.

Picking out some clothes, he exhaled harshly.

He acted rashly last night and was thankful Lukas was already fast asleep when he did it, unable to even consider all the ways that Lukas might react, good and bad.

Bastian couldn’t honestly say it was on a whim either, a strong urge long denied maybe. He’d thought about it more than occasionally over the years, and during the World Cup, he’d gone through with it as cameras documented and subsequently reported each second.

Since then, the thoughts increased exponentially. The something in him was no longer dormant. And, from that time till now, he fought himself out of his sense of duty to Lukas, his family, and Sarah.

But last night, the circumstances changed. He found that Monika and Sarah would soon be out of the picture, and it was like the stopgap of his repressed emotions had been removed and his inhibitions were more than lowered. And, he loved every moment of his lips against Lukas’.

The decade long something between them was past the point of being contained, and Bastian wasn’t sure he cared.

.

Jetskiing was, in a word, wet. And in a few more words, more fun than he’d had since winning the Cup.

There was only one available jetski left at the lake, and after a lot of disagreement, they decided to just share, taking turns at the front.

Inevitably, they got bored, and during his turn steering, Bastian sped as fast as he could, making sharp turns and trying his best to shake Lukas off and into the water.

“You okay back there, Luki?!” He called back slyly over his shoulder, competing against the sounds of the motor and rushing water.

Almost immediately, Lukas knew what he was doing and clung onto Bastian’s waist, locking his arms around it. Yelling into his ear, he threatened, “I’ll get you back for this, Basti!”

When he finally slowed down so they could switch, Lukas grinned evilly at him before he simply shoved him off, speeding away.

Bastian spluttered when he broke the water surface.

More from shock than anything else, Bastian couldn’t stop laughing, almost drowning because of it. He was ‘saved’ when Lukas came back around, holding his hand out to help him back in. Lukas really should have expected to be dragged in, though, so Bastian had no qualms about pulling him hard off balance.

The jetski lay forgotten in the water as they raced each other back and forth and fought in the water like children. At various points, Bastian saw Lukas with his phone, marveling at his friend’s foresight to get a waterproof case for his phone and wondering what pictures he would find posted online later.

.

When Lukas couldn’t follow Bastian any further into the airport, they bade each other goodbye, both reluctant to let the other go, not wanting to deal with the realities that wait for them when they did. They needed each other more than ever.

Lukas leaned further into the hug. “Come back soon, eh?”

“What? It’s your turn. You come back _home_ next time,” he said, emphasizing ‘home.’

“Aha. Christmas, for sure.”

“That’s three months, Poldi.”

“You can come visit me before that.”

“ _Your_ turn,” he repeated. “I’m not riding another train.”

“Aww, Basti, afraid of a little old woman?”

“Her hands were _everywhere_ ,” he shuddered, squeezing him. “I’m going to have nightmares.”

Chuckling, the corners of Lukas eyes crinkled, and Bastian couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

The minutes ticked away before Bastian couldn’t hold off leaving any longer. He gave him one more squeeze before pulling away, lingering. Holding Lukas’ fingers in his, his breath caught as his lips pulled into a wide smile automatically. He swore silently and wondered why it took him so long to realize it in the first place. And, if this was what the others saw, the teasing was well deserved.

He figured he should say something instead of just stare silently as he tried to memorize his face.

Fortunately for him, Lukas turned his hands over in his and said, “Text me as soon as you can?”

“What, miss me already?”

“Shut up, Schweini. We both know you miss me more. That’s why you came to visit,” he grinned smugly.

“Next time, you’re definitely bringing your ass over to Germany.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just can't resist bringing my ass up, can you? Go, you’re going to miss your plane.”

Bastian played with his fingers before meeting his eyes. He unwillingly let go, remarking quietly, “That’s not a bad idea.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Talk soon,” he said more clearly, giving him a small wave. If he touched him again, then he really might not leave.

Giving his own wave, Lukas stood in front of him and replied, “Next time, Basti. Be safe and keep winning for me. Yeah?”

“Of course, Luki.”

.

He was sure Bastian was going to kiss him again when he brought their hands together, but he didn’t. Conflicted all over again, Lukas let him walk away, waiting in the airport and watching until Bastian’s plane could be mistaken for a star. Staring at the sky, he tried to store all the good memories of their weekend to deal with the bad ones.

Tomorrow morning, he’d see Monika. But today, he’d read and reread the messages Bastian sent him minutes after they parted.

One of which, he noted, bore particularly good news, and it made him want to check his schedule more often.

_-Almost forgot. Die Mannschaft against Poland in a couple of weeks. Guess we'll see each other before Christmas after all ;)_

.

Bastian took the shuttle from the airport to Munich and then rode in a cab from there. In the cab, he left a message for Sarah, telling her that he’d be at the apartment soon.

_-Great. Talk to you Friday night?_

He was puzzled until he opened his front door. There was a distinct lack of her personal effects. Throwing his bags down, he surveyed the area more fully. She was fairly thorough, taking only her half of the things. It was over, then, he thought. It was happening. Rather, it already happened. The half empty apartment was obvious enough.

Sighing, he sat on the couch that used to have a knitted throw and colorful pillows on it. He couldn’t say that he didn’t expect this to happen. And, this was what would have happened anyway had they had their talk before she moved out.

He had these reasons and more to console himself with, but it didn’t stop him from dropping his head to his hands.

.

The next morning, Lukas called Monika and told her he’d be by after practice. She sounded better—great, even—than when he left her, and was surprised as to how well she was handling things.

Awkwardly, he knocked at the front door, not sure he should use his keys and intrude.

The door almost immediately flew open and Monika beamed at him. “Lukas!”

Lukas flinched, but there was no hint of malice in her voice, and he had to stare for a moment to make sure it was really her. He hadn’t been mistaken before, then.

She pulled him into a hug that he returned belatedly and uncomfortably. She either didn’t seem to notice, or she was too busy ushering him in to care.

“Monika?”

Monika only smiled back at him and gestured for him to sit next to her on the couch. Taking one of his hand in hers, she pleasantly announced, “I want to say I’m sorry, Lukas.”

“What?” He asked, surprised. Whatever he expected to be confronted with when he called her, it certainly wasn’t this. The tightness and stiffness of her motions belied her voice and smiles, and he only had more reason to be on edge.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated with that same serene smile. Patting his hand gingerly, she continued, “I’m sorry for the way I’ve been handling things. You were right. I was overreacting, and I hope you can forgive me.”

“You don’t need my forgiveness, Moni. I—,” he began before she cut him off.

“I _do_ ,” she insisted. “It was all my fault, and I’m sorry.”

“It was both of ours,” he told her, knowing that it was perhaps more his than hers.

“But I need you to forgive me,” she said, tone pleading.

Haltingly, he stammered out of confusion, “Then, I will, but—”

Clapping her hand together, she exclaimed, “Great! Then, we can move on and forget it ever happened!” The matter of fact cheer was back again.

He almost didn’t register her words because he was distracted by the forced joy pouring off her in waves, but when he did, he was hit with all the implications. As gently as he could, he tried to pull his hands from hers. Her eyes flickered with hurt, but she let him, face falling as he did.

He didn’t want to hurt her again, but anything else wouldn’t be right. In a strained voice, Lukas explained to her, “Moni… I don’t want to forget it happened.”

Her hands fisted in her lap, bunching up her skirt. He watched her bite her lip and try not to cry, and he felt for her. He was tempted to take back his words, but instead managed, “We just don’t work anymore, Moni. I’m sorry.”

Monika’s eyes remained downcast as she tried to hold back the tears unsuccessfully.

“Where’s Louis?” He asked, looking around uncomfortably.

Suddenly, she stared into his eyes with determination. “I left him with my friend because I thought you’d want some real time alone together. We need to talk—”

Lukas shook his head immediately. “I told you I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“And, I thought you’d feel differently after I apologized and left you alone for a while,” she said, the edges of her voice sharper than before but at the same time more fragile. “That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? Time alone?”

Cautiously, he answered, “To think, but I don’t need to anymore.”

“Why not?” She asked in the same fragile voice.

Playing it nicely wasn’t going to get them anywhere, especially with Monika’s rapidly declining mood, so he bluntly stated, “I made my decision, Monika.”

She challenged him to spell it out for her, to say the words that would make it real. “About?”

He closed his eyes, finding his resolve. It was easier when he couldn’t see the woman he loved breaking in front of him. “About leaving. I don’t want to be together anymore, Moni.”

She surprised him by flatly replying, “You’re not leaving.”

“Why?”

“You came here for a reason, Lukas. You don’t want to leave.”

“I came here to apologize.”

She reached for his hand, but he moved it away.

“Apology accepted. We can move past this,” she insisted, trying for his hand again. Once more, he pulled back.

“Move on, not back, Moni. I wanted to see Louis, too… Maybe pick up some more of my things since I won’t be coming back as often.”

“Your things belong at home.”

“Monika, this is ridiculous. You can’t force me to stay in a marriage with you.”

Her briefly reprised bravado from a short moment ago disappeared once more. Softly, as if it was sinking in, she asked, “Why not?”

Sympathetically, he gave her a concerned look. He hated what this was doing to her. “I can’t keep trying when I don’t want to.”

She let out a soft shudder and sigh. “What about me?”

The guilt crushed him, but guilt wasn’t a good reason to stay. He embraced her then, pulling her head under his chin to comfort her. She was understandably hurt, and as soothingly as he could, he told her, “I still care about you, and I always will. And, I will always be there for you and Louis. But, I can’t stay, Moni. I’m sorry…”

Her body shook harder at his words, and Lukas rocked her in his arms to calm her.

When night fell and the tears had dried up, Lukas figured she wore herself out and had fallen asleep until she finally whispered, “I’m sorry, too, Lukas.”

He stayed with her until he was sure she was asleep, carrying her back to what was once their bed and tucking her in as gently as Bastian did for him yesterday morning. Quietly, he packed up more of his clothes and a few other mementos and necessities. Looking at the idyllic pictures of them scattered across the apartment, he had the urge to just stop fighting the role he built for himself and let Monika fix them like she promised.

It was safer, and Monika was willing to forget everything. It’d be easier, he told himself. Comfortable. Normal.

Hours later, while he was lost in second guesses in the middle of his living room, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

_-Hey, Luki. You haven’t been responding. You okay? Jogi says we’re sharing rooms for the Poland match, and captain gets to assign rooms. :D Roomies?_

When he left, he dropped his keys on the kitchen counter. That place wasn’t home for him anymore.

.

Come Friday, Bastian had a little time to adjust and was flying high from their domination of Hannover the day before. He was happy to the point of forgetting that Sarah was coming over and didn’t quite even remember until he opened the door.

It felt weird with her knocking like that when this was her apartment, too, but he figured that was more indicative of their relationship’s status than anything.

“Great. You’re here. I thought you might’ve forgotten,” she said, waiting patiently for him to invite her in.

He didn’t correct her, instead stepping aside to welcome her. He didn’t have time to refurnish the apartment because of he’d been training for the match and it wasn’t his thing, but he was sure she wasn’t really seeing anything other than him anyway.

Her eyes hadn’t left him since the moment he opened the door, and he wondered what she was seeing.

“How’ve you been?”

Bastian shrugged, waiting for her to just come out and say it. “Good. You?”

She nodded slowly, choosing to sit on the armrest of the couch. She obviously didn’t want to stay long, and Bastian leaned against the wall in kind.

“I’m good. I saw your match yesterday. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“Talk to Lukas recently?”

“We both know what you really want to say, Sarah. You can say it,” he assured her. 

Even with all the mental preparation, she sharply inhaled. Facing him, she stated, “We should break up... Officially, I guess. I wanted to do it in person because we deserve that.” Her eyes scanned the apartment finally, as if he couldn’t possibly have noticed the missing things until she did so.

“Okay,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. He shrugged off the dull pains in his chest as best he could. His easy agreement to their break up wasn’t reflective of how much he cared about her. This was a woman he spent over seven years of his life with. He’d grown attached. It was natural even if the feelings had waned. Underlying everything, they had been friends. But it was her decision, and he wasn’t going to stop her when he couldn’t very well give her a good reason to stay. “Thanks.”

She tilted her head to the side in consideration of him. “Do you want to know why I wanted to break up with you?”

Instead of waiting for him to answer, she continued, “You dropped everything going on here to visit _him_ over there.”

Thickly, Bastian replied, “You knew I’d be spending time with his last weekend anyway. It’s not that different.”

“Please, Bastian. Don’t interrupt,” she stated, raising her hand as if to physically stop him. She had wanted to get this out for a long time, even before she considered splitting from him. “Yes., I knew you’d be with him, but going to London to do it is something else entirely. You left the fucking country. Stop,” she said authoritatively when he opened his mouth. “You can talk after. You’ve always been doing these things without even considering how I’d feel for years. Maybe since we got together. I don’t know. It and everything else just built up until it blew up in my face when you left for London.”

“Is it my turn to talk yet?”

“No,” she said plainly. Sitting up straighter, she told him, “I’ve moved out, obviously. You can keep the apartment. I moved in with a friend. I’m keeping my car, of course. You can keep yours. I only took my things, so you don’t have to worry. I also met someone over the weekend. I’m not saying I love him, but it reminded me that there were people other than you out there, you know? So there’s that. And, I think we both wanted this to happen, so bygones, right?”

Bastian asked, “Can I talk now?”

Folding her hands on her lap, she answered, “You may.”

He pursed his lips before telling her with a long sigh, “I wish you only the best, Sar.”

“Thanks, Basti,” she said with a sigh of relief, smiling for the first time since he opened the door. She honestly wasn’t sure how he’d take their breaking up even with all the time to prepare and all the signs that came before. “There might be some other details I’m forgetting, but that was essentially it. I should go now. That guy I met is waiting downstairs.” Crossing the short distance to reach him, she pulled him in for a hug and said, “I don’t want to forget you, Basti. What we had was good for the most part. It just wasn’t what it should have been between us, I think. You feel the same, no? I’d like to stay friends, if that’s okay.” She chewed at her bottom lip before adding in hesitation, “You’re really lucky, you know? Just think about it and give Lukas a call for me, but don’t badmouth me too much…”

“Poldi? Why do you want me to call him?” He asked dumbly, hugging her back.

“Just think about it and call him. Okay? For me.”

She left quickly, kissing his cheek and closing the door behind her.

He stood there for long after she left, thinking about the official end to his eight year long relationship, feeling slightly foolish since he’d known it had ended already and wanted it himself. Running his hand through his hair, he got ready for bed despite it only being nine. Then, in bed, he remembered what he agreed to do. Grabbing his phone from the nightstand, he quickly typed out a message like so many times before.

‘You awake?’

Four minutes later, he got a reply.

_-Yeah. What’s up?_

‘Sarah and I broke up. Don’t worry about it. I’m alright.’

His phone rang immediately.

“Luki?”

Lukas’ voice came out in a harsh whisper. “The fuck was that message, Basti? What do you mean you and Sarah broke up?”

“I mean we broke up. Why are you whispering?”

“I’m at training camp. Game Sunday. Mesut’s sleeping, and I don’t want him to keep nagging us.” Bastian heard Lukas swear quietly and a door slide open. Then, in a louder voice, he heard Lukas say, “Forget it. I’m on the balcony now. What’s going on, Basti?” Worry laced each word.

“Nothing. We talked today. She said we should break up, and I agreed.”

“You serious?”

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck, Basti.”

“It’s really nothing. I saw it coming.”

“How?”

“She told me we needed to talk last weekend.”

“Ah…”

“And, when I came back, her stuff was gone.” He shrugged even though Lukas couldn’t see him.

“Jesus, Basti. That was a week ago, and you’re telling me this now?”

“Made it official today.”

“… Are you really okay?”

“Yeah… Kinda relieved.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he said, stressing the monosyllabic word.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not now, maybe never. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, if you don’t want to talk about it. Then, we won’t. You can tell me whatever you want whenever. And, I’ll do the same. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“… Then, do you wanna talk about the divorce?”

“I took Louis out for some ice cream and told him what was going to happen with me and Moni. I don’t think he got that we were splitting up. He just asked if I was going to move in with you instead, and if he could visit.”

“With me? Why?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Monika’s doing good then?”

“Eh… better than Monday.”

“Give her time.”

“I don’t expect anything from her, Basti. She’s got a right to be hurt. I’m just grateful she lets me see Lukas.”

“You have a right to see him. You’re his father.”

“I don’t want to hurt her anymore than I already have.”

“You did the right thing, Luki.”

“I know,” he conceded finally for the first time since Bastian first started saying it a week ago. He’d been forcing himself to remember just that constantly, but it was different to agree when someone else said it.

“You wanna talk about something else?” He offered, knowing Lukas hadn’t completely shut down the conversation earlier because he was making the effort for him.

“Fuck, yes.”

“I heard Wenger’s interested in buying Sami for next year. Does Mesut know?”

“More like he won’t shut up about it. He got them to consider it that night. He wouldn’t leave until they promised to consider it.”

“That really works?... You feel like coming back?”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Yes?”

Lukas snorted. “Why don’t you transfer here?”

“I’m not leaving the Bundesliga.”

“That’s what Mesut said about La Liga.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Really, there are rumors that Sami might really transfer to Arsenal next year. It's beautiful. Mesut must be soo happy :D Schweinski really is the gateway football bromance. And I've learned so much about football (especially the ships) because of them.  
> Also, Giroud. You're very pretty, but back off please. [I see you.](http://oliviergiroudd.tumblr.com/post/96739086027) [Basti sees you too.](http://idreamoffootball.tumblr.com/post/90258598502/schwnsteigr-jealous-basti-gives-me-so-much)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sometimes, I just use this fic to make jokes/references to what I wish would happen in real life (i.e. First Lady Poldi. it’s just beautiful.). Revised note. Honestly, this chapter was originally less fluff filled and was going to go up this weekend instead, but I think we all need this after blah blah blah. You know. You _know_.  
>  Also, [tumblr](http://fromyouraveragegirl.tumblr.com/) news at the end. Namely, I have one now. :)

**State of the Union**

.

Spotting Bastian on his phone immediately after Pep dismissed them for a fifteen minute break, Thomas ran over to him and loudly exclaimed, “Hey, Basti! Got a question for you!”

“What?” He said without looking up. It’d been a little over an hour since his last message to Lukas, so he was busily focused on constructing his reply. They were having a heated discussion about whether cats or dogs were better. Bastian loved dogs and couldn’t stand cats, and he didn’t understand how Lukas, as a dog owner, was able to love both.

Casually, Thomas bounced the ball with his left foot a few times before tucking it under his shirt, making his way towards Bastian. “So since you’re captain of the national team now, does that make Poldi the First Mate or First Lady of football?”

Off to the side of the bench, Jerome, who had happened to overhear Thomas—though, there were fewer people who _didn’t_ hear Thomas—, promptly choked on his water, laughing so hard he fell over. Philipp, who had the misfortune of being in the middle of talking to Jerome at the time, calmly wiped the spit from his face and thumped Jerome harshly on the back, making sure the team would still have their defender for the rest of the playing season.

Thomas pointed and laughed at Jerome before turning back to Bastian, who did not look nearly as amused. “What, you two fighting?”

“Shut up, Tommy.”

“Yeah, Tommy. They’re doing great. Don’t you know? Basti went to see Poldi a couple of weeks ago.” The keeper appeared from beside Thomas and leaned against him. He smirked at Bastian, thinking he deserved no mercy after hiding his nutella from him the last time they were on an away game.

Bastian shot Manuel a cross look. There were few people who knew, and he figured Manuel only knew because either Per or Mesut told him. And, now Thomas would really never shut up.

“What? I thought Poldi came here?” The gleeful grin spread wide on Thomas’ face. “Is that why you weren’t responding to our messages that weekend? I just thought you just didn’t want to share him. Wait, is that better or worse?” Slyly, he nudged him suggestively and asked, “So, did you guys share a room? Did you even make it to the room? I want to know before I tell everyone else.”

“Shut _up,_ Tommy,” he repeated, losing his patience. He just wanted to be able to focus so he could convince Lukas that dogs were the best. He wasn’t asking for much. “Did Lisa cut you off? Or do you just want to hear how it’s done right?”

“So… what you’re saying is, Poldi is the first _lady_?”

Before Bastian could tell him off, Mario jogged up to them, wanting to be included in the conversation, and seriously asked, “Wait, do we have to always call Poldi the First Lady or is that just for when Jogi calls us up for the national team? Cause, Basti’s the captain for the national team, but Philipp’s still captain here… But then, we don’t really call either of them captain?...”

The three looked at him silently and he stared blankly back. All at once, the other two burst into laughter. They sometimes forgot that even with all he's accomplished, Mario was still naive. He still had a hard time separating the truths from all the commonly acknowledged inside jokes.

Scowling, Bastian told him, “Don’t listen to these fuckers. They’re idiots.”

“So are we fuckers or idiots?”

“ _You’re_ a fucking idiot.”

Playfully puckering up his lips, Thomas pounced on Bastian, replying, “Aww. It’s okay Manu. Basti’s just upset he has to wait another week before he gets to see the First Lady again. But, I can fix that. C’mere, Basti. Aha! Aha!”

Bastian quickly blocked his unwelcome advances, shoving him back. “Get off me, Tommy, or you can find that golden boot up your ass.” He left his arm outstretched to keep him away in case he tried something else.

Scratching the side of his face, Mario tried to empathize with Bastian. “It's okay, Basti. I miss Marco."

“I don’t miss Poldi,” Bastian adamantly stated.

Baffled, Mario replied, “Really?”

“No,” he said plainly, getting up. He obviously wasn’t going to get anything done with those three around.

Thomas whispered, though it was equally as loud as when he was shouting earlier, “He can’t miss him if they talk _all_ the time.”

.

Bastian didn’t have a subscription to the _Bild_ , but apparently the people who waited outside the training stadium did.

The day before he and some of the other national teammates were to leave for Warsaw for their match against Poland, Bastian had a flurry of glossy papers shoved into his face. At first, he automatically took the papers to sign them like he usually did for fans before and after practice, but the prevalent concern that rang in the voices of the people calling for him caught his attention. The peculiarity of it made him stop and actually look at what he held in front of him.

The headline and full page photo spread were enough to make him cringe already. There was a foreboding sense of doom in his gut, and he stared at the picture of himself and Lukas in mid almost-kiss before forcing himself to take the plunge and read the words that accompanied it.

> Schweinski Confirmed _: Proof that Bastian Schweinsteiger and Lukas Podolski are more than friends. Rumors that began as early as 2006 regarding the pair’s unique ‘friendship’ came back in full force with the finish of the 2014 World Cup and the kiss seen around the world (see cover photo). In the weeks following and immediately after…_

Ignoring the fervent cries for answers, Bastian made his way through the crowds with the help from security, reading in disbelief as he numbly ambled towards the locker room. With each unsubstantiated speculation passed off as fact, he felt more and more certain that he should’ve kept his boycott of giving the _Bild_ interviews even with the apology that came at least three years too late.

.

He had been so absorbed with the torn out magazine excerpt that he didn’t notice that he’d been stoically standing in front of the doors to the locker room for minutes until it opened, nearly hitting him in the face.

“Basti?”

He tore his eyes away from the article to see Thomas standing in front of him.

Thomas briefly looked down at what he was holding and nodded. “Great. So you’ve seen it.”

He tried to shrug it off and play innocent. “Seen what?”

“ _That_.” He gestured to the paper in Basti’s hands, holding up a nearly identical copy in his own.

Bastian groaned.

“Yeah… just a heads up. Everyone’s either read it already or they have a copy, courtesy of the pushy people outside.”

“Thanks,” he said without much sincerity.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you guys got caught.”

“We did not get caught!”

Thomas pointedly looked at the paper he was holding and helpfully held up his own again.

“We didn’t get caught because we’re not together,” Bastian denied in annoyance, mood souring worse. He walked towards his locker, but Thomas followed him. There were a few other players still lingering inside, and he tried not to return their curious glances. He had a feeling they weren’t about to leave soon now that they had a show.

“It’s okay, you know. I don’t care. Manu says he called it, but he doesn’t care either. And, I don’t know about everyone, but you and Poldi are my friends no matter what.”

More pressingly, Bastian repeated, “We’re not together, Tommy.” At the skeptical look on his face, Bastian narrowed his eyes. He quickly changed, wanting to leave and get away from him. “We’re not.”

“Are _you_ sure? I mean it explains why you’ve been so touchy since the Cup. It explains a lot in general. A _whole_ lot. I mean we all joke about it, but you have to wonder, too. And, like I said, I don’t care. So—”

“Thomas,” he said in a low voice, lacing up his boots forcefully, his mind elsewhere. He knew he had to tell Lukas first before anyone else did, he just didn’t know how. He wasn’t sure how his friend would react to it either. The first time these sorts of rumors came out, Lukas had denied the existence of their friendship and tried to distance himself from him. Bastian didn’t handle it well even with Lukas’ subsequent apologies and explanations. This time, this time it was different. He didn’t just think of Lukas as his close friend. His body tensed in nervous anxiety. “Drop it. I said we aren’t together.”

“Anymore? Or…”

In a flash, Bastian grabbed him, his hands firmly in his shirt, and pulled him close. “Ever. We were never together.”

Bastian knew and Thomas knew that he would never purposefully hurt him, but he was shocked to find them both in that position in the first place. Letting go and backing off immediately, Bastian apologized under his breath and shoved the crumpled papers into his locker.

“It’s okay, Basti… Just thought you should know where I stood… in case.”

He walked ahead of him, nodding, fidgeting with the phone he kept in his pocket. His mind was busy running scenarios. A simple text message would be easiest but messy and would more than likely lead to a follow up call anyway.

Behind him, he heard Thomas continue talking, and he let him despite his need for silence, knowing that Thomas’ usual rambling meant he was truly forgiven for his overreaction. “Cause it made sense. And none of us even knew you two broke up with Sarah and Monika. And at the same time, too.”

“Sarah broke up with me,” he corrected automatically.

“Sorry,” Thomas paused to digest the tidbit of information. “We still had no idea. But, we shouldn’t have listened to that trash in the first place, right? I mean—”

“It’s fine, Tommy. I got it.” Objectively, the evidence did stack up against them. And, the people who were with them most often would see firsthand how close they were. It was really no one’s fault but the article’s writer, the editor, and whoever else was involved with that piece. Then, a thought struck him. “Who’s been saying what about it?”

He caught up to him and then started listing. “So far everyone’s who’s already here has read it or skimmed it. They’d probably believe you if you say it isn’t true since you’re you and it’s the _Bild_. But, David said he knew something was going on between you two but doesn’t care so long as Poldi doesn’t make you transfer to Arsenal. Franck said he’s known since Poldi was playing for Bayern. Jerome said he’s sorry he didn’t know sooner or else he would’ve switched rooms with you so you two would’ve been in the same house together in Brazil. Dante’s cool with it and said Poldi was a good choice. And then, Manu said that Philipp owes him fifty euros, but Philipp said there’s still time for him to be right since you didn’t say anything yet.”

Bastian stared in amazement as he rattled everything off in what he was sure was just one breath. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what kind of bet was going on between Philipp and Manuel either, especially if it was still an ongoing thing.

“Oh yeah. Then, Philipp said he had to make a call. I guess everyone jumped the gun, though. Want me to let them know?”

“Tell the team,” he replied. “Ignore everyone else.”

“Got it,” he said, saluting Bastian.

He watched as Thomas half jogged onto the field, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Listen up, everyone. Basti says the article isn’t true. He and Poldi are  _not_ together.”

Bastian pursed his lips, scanning his teammates for their reactions. They seemed perceptive to the truth, and he calmed down, appreciating Thomas’ maturity and help in handling it.

Then, Thomas threw a smug look back at him, and Bastian's jaw dropped, not knowing what to expect next.

Taking a deep breath, Thomas turned around to face everyone again and continued in the same matter of fact manner. "Poldi wants Basti to put a ring on it first before he officially accepts his position as the First Lady. So, keep an eye out for good news this weekend.”

He smacked his forehead with his palm, feeling his ears burn as the team broke out in raucous laughter. He should’ve figured that nothing would stop his friends from giving him a hard time. But, at the very least, it was good to know that nothing would change even if it did go the other way.

.

By the end of practice, everyone had clapped him on the back and wished him luck at least once, except for Philipp who put his hand on his shoulder and told him it was going to be alright. Bastian was forever grateful for his captain. It was hard to believe that he and Philipp were the same age sometimes.

In his car, he finally let the guilt hit him. He hadn’t responded to any of Lukas’ messages, blatantly ignoring them lest he was tempted to reply and accidentally blurt everything out all at once. This was something that needed more tact than that.

Quickly, before he could stop himself, he texted Lukas, asking if had time to talk that night or if he was going to be with Louis. It would be wiser if he knew everything before they saw each other tomorrow.

‘Do you have time to Skype later?’

_-Good. So, you’re not dead then. I was already planning to send your parents some flowers._

_-I’m having dinner with Louis soon, but I have time after I drop him back off at Moni’s. So, eight for me? Or, if it’s about why you’ve been a jerk and not responding, I have some time now if you want to beg me for my forgiveness._

‘Eight is good. And dream on. I was at practice.

_-And you suddenly cared?_

‘It was different today.’

_-Whatever you say, Basti. Talk soon. Just picked up Louis. He says he misses you and to send him a picture. He told me to send you this one a while ago, but I forgot._

Bastian smiled softly. From his phone screen, father and son looked back up at him. Louis was dressed in his football kit, holding up a shiny trophy with outstretched hands. Behind him, Lukas proudly beamed, one arm tightly wrapped around Louis and the other offscreen. It was a private family moment, and he felt honored it was shared with him, touched. As often as Lukas posted pictures for everyone else to see, he had even more pictures that he didn’t, claiming they were too personal.

.

Bastian fidgeted on his couch with his laptop balanced on the arm rest. His eyes darted nervously at the clock. It was almost nine for him, which meant it was almost eight for Lukas, which also meant that he had little time left to prepare himself.

The call screen popped up five minutes before nine, and he almost had a heart attack.

Before he lost his nerve, Bastian accepted the video call.

“Hey, Schweini,” Lukas greeted from somewhere off screen.

Bastian moved closer to his laptop screen, trying to figure out where Lukas was. “Where are you?”

“Here,” he said, finally coming into view with a large duffel bag and suitcase.

“Packing for tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I’m coming in with Mesut at eight. What about you?”

Bastian watched as he sat on the familiar hotel bed and pulled the laptop close to him. “Around nine. We get the afternoon off, right?”

He shrugged and grinned at him.

“… but of course you wouldn’t know.”

“So, what’d you want to talk about?”

“It’s not that important,” he said, instinctively trying to stall. “How was dinner?”

Lukas stared at him. “What’s going on, Basti?”

“Nothing. Did you have fun with Louis? You didn’t cut it short to talk to me, did you?”

“Basti…”

“It can wait.”

“Until?”

“Until you tell me about dinner.”

“Fine. Dinner was great. We made lazanki and makowiec. Then, we went to the park to kick the ball around a little. Then, I dropped him off at Moni’s so he could do homework before bedtime. And _then_ , I came back here because you wanted to talk to me. You ready now?”

Bastian toyed with his sleeve, not looking at him. With great reluctance, he muttered, “They ran a story about us.”

“What?”

“They ran a story about us,” he repeated louder.

Confused, Lukas replied, “So what?”

“ _Bild_ ran a story about us.”

“So… what? They run a lot of stories about us. We’re not kids anymore, Basti. You telling me you haven’t gotten used to it yet?”

“No,” he sighed.

“No?”

“No, it’s not that,” his tongue stumbled over the words. “Has anyone said anything weird to you?”

“No… except for you. What’s going on?”

Bastian sighed heavily again, reaching for the crumpled magazine tearouts he kept from earlier that day. Slowly, he told him, “It’s stupid, but I thought you should know before we see each other tomorrow. To prepare yourself.”

“What did they say?”

“They got pictures of you moving out,” Bastian said, stopping when he saw his face fall.

“So, they know about me and Moni.” Under his breath, he swore. He breathed deeply before giving a weak smile. “Everywhere we go, it’s the same, right? It’s okay. They would’ve found out eventually. But that’s not everything, is it?” He asked, rubbing a hand over his face. He had noticed Bastian was fidgeting again and couldn’t look him in the eye, a sure sign that he was still hiding something.

“They found out Sarah and I broke up, too.”

Clenching his jaw, he swore again. “Those fuckers.” Seriously, he asked, “Are they giving you a hard time? Need me to take care of anyone?”

“I’m fine, Luki." He couldn't resist smiling at least a little at Lukas' prompt offer to defend him. "That’s not what I wanted to tell you.”

“Is it worse than the _Bild_ talking shit about us again?”

Bastian’s lips formed a thin line as he thought hard about his next words. Then he realized, Lukas might not care about this like he did. They were older, closer, and he shouldn’t have to worry about a less than reputable magazine ruining what they had. Perhaps, were he not aware of his feelings, he would’ve brushed this off easily, maybe even laugh about it with him. He kept that in mind as he more willingly revealed, “Forget it. I was thinking about it too much because of what the guys said this morning.”

“What is it, Basti?” Lukas urged. He didn’t like Bastian keeping things from him no matter how trivial.

Finally bringing the pages up to the screen, he said as casually as he could, “This. But it’s nothing. Just some shit about how we left Monika and Sarah to be with each other.”

He desperately wanted Lukas to be okay with it, but when he didn’t hear anything, Bastian put down the article to see Lukas’ reaction. He was already second guessing himself and preparing to be shut out again like before. Only this time, he wasn’t sure he could handle it without doing something stupid, like going to London and forcing Lukas to be okay with it.

After what felt like ages of Bastian staring at what he thought was a just picture, Lukas slowly asked, “And… what else?”

“What?”

“I mean, is that it?”

“Yeah,” Bastian replied slowly, still trying to gauge his reaction.

Almost immediately, Lukas surprised him by letting out a bark of laughter. “That _is_ some shit,” he agreed. “You were worried about that?”

“Yeah… this morning, the fans… and the guys…”

“Aww, Basti, did they tease you? Were they being mean? You sure you don't need me to teach them a lesson?”

“Fuck off, man. I was worried cause you—”

“Cause I what? I know what they say about us, Basti. It's nothing new. Have you ever looked us up on the internet? Read the comments on our pictures?”

He felt cheated and relieved at the same time. Also, he was insanely curious about what they were saying on their pictures together. “You really don’t care? You aren’t… bothered?”

“No,” he answered, still laughing. “Are you?”

“No,” he said quickly. “But… tomorrow—”

“Tomorrow, we’ll be in Warsaw, and we can relax before the game.”

“There’ll be reporters there," he pointed out.

“There’s always _people_ watching us, Basti. That’s why they have those pictures, and that’s why I don’t care what they think.”

Bastian ran his hand through his hair, resisting the urge to tear at it. He didn’t know why he was trying to make it an issue when Lukas said didn’t care. There should have been no problems. He should've been fucking ecstatic that it didn't affect their friendship. But, for some reason, he was irked that Lukas let it go so easily.

He let Lukas take the conversation to plans for tomorrow and the game, nodding where he should and laughing when he should.

.

Once or twice, Lukas casually brought his palm to the side of his face to make sure he was still smiling. He felt words continue to leave his mouth, but he had no idea how Bastian could even understand him, let alone laugh. Since he showed him the article, Lukas had devoted much of his faculties to keeping his heart rate under control and couldn’t really think to do much else.

Bastian was so caught up and afraid about how everyone thought they were together, and he… wasn’t.

He tried playing the entire thing off as nothing to calm Bastian, make him see that it wasn’t the end of the world, but he was having flashbacks to years before. Only this time, this fucking time, the _Bild_ wasn’t wrong. Not completely anyway. At least ninety nine percent of it was utter bullshit, but the part about him and Bastian, their claims that there was something more between them... His body tingled with thoughts of their kiss, their _kisses_ and touches.Their private moments.

Lukas found little merit in lying to himself, but with how badly Bastian had seemed to react to the news, in less than twelve hours, he hoped he could at least lie for Bastian's sake. Their friendship’s sake.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, I made a[tumblr](http://fromyouraveragegirl.tumblr.com/) (kind of) pretty much because I wanted to keep up with schweinski. Yay. :3 But, I also post sneak peeks (kind of), random thoughts, some artwork, and it’s pretty much my brain dump. There are links to my other accounts from various sites as well. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter. 
> 
> We'll pull through..


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Added more fluff before the end bits because I just need it, alright? There is no real plot to this story anymore. None. I need the fluff, and I regret nothing. Je. Ne. Regrette. Rien. Sorry, guys. Also, I love Britney. You’ll understand later. Enjoy.

**State of the Union**

.

Bastian was immensely grateful the flight was short. He didn’t think he could handle any more babies crying. She had looked like such an angel when she was playing with him earlier, too… before she turned into a frightful banshee. And, her parents were _still_ able to cradle and look at her like she was the World Cup trophy before, during, and after.

It reminded him of Louis. Louis was a bit (read: a lot) of a brat when he was a toddler, spoiled rotten by his parents, grandparents, and everyone around him, including his Uncle Basti. Thankfully, he had miraculously grown out of that phase with time, but even without his chubby cheeks and blue eyes, Bastian was sure he’d still love him unconditionally in the same way because he was Lukas’ son.

His phone vibrated suddenly when he exited the terminal. Reading it, he did a double take and quickly scanned the area. Almost immediately, he spotted a familiar cap, one that he often stole and wore until he and its owner met again, who then kept it only for however long it took for Bastian to steal it again.

The cap wearer was holding up a sign to cover most of his face, but Bastian still knew.

He casually made his way to him, cocking his head to the side as he got close enough to read the sign. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward into an amused smile, unable to resist.

He put his arm around him in a side hug and whispered, “’Mein hase’? Really, Luki?”

“Clever, right?”

“Only if you’re trying to get caught.”

“What? I call you that sometimes, and I couldn’t think of what else to write without people noticing.”

“You didn’t have to wait for me. Wasn’t it boring?”

“I wanted to,” he shrugged, messily stowing the sign away in his bag.

Bastian rolled his eyes but appreciated his friend’s thoughtfulness, fighting the unmasculine blush. “Where’s Mesut?”

“Sami got here last night, so he didn’t want to wait around.”

He nodded in understanding and figured as much, neither offended nor surprised. “Should we take the train to the hotel or call a taxi?”

“Train’s faster. Manu and the rest aren’t with you?”

“Nah. They’re not coming til dinner.”

“Why didn’t you just come over with them then? I hate flying alone.”

“You just hate flying. And, it would’ve been lonelier to stay in Munich.”

The reason for his loneliness was left unsaid, but they both knew it had something to do with Sarah’s departure. Only, it wasn’t just her departure that Bastian meant. But, that wasn’t something Bastian was just going to say.

“Let’s go,” he said, adjusting the strap to his duffel bag. Deftly, he swiped the hat off Lukas’ head and fit it over his own, walking towards the signs for the train.

.

They dropped off their luggage at the hotel near the stadium but didn’t stay long. When they realized that Lukas had forgotten to bring the games, they decided to go sightsee. Rather, Lukas told Bastian he was going to drag him along while he looked around, despite having visited the city many times before.

On their way out, they met Mesut and Sami further down the hall. They, too, were heading out to the food district to find lunch somewhere nearby. However, Lukas and Bastian declined Sami’s invitation to join them in the face of Mesut’s silent threat to stay the fuck away.

In the bustling city streets, Lukas led him by his hand so they wouldn’t get separated. He kept his head down to avoid recognition and Lukas from seeing the pink that ran across his cheeks. He cursed his genetics for his paleness and pulled Lukas’ cap down further.

In reality, Lukas was actually only holding onto his wrist, but were he inclined, he could pull his hand back and fit it into Lukas’ easily, linking their fingers together. And, it was thoughts like that that made him keep slightly behind Lukas instead of beside him.

As they saw practically everything Warsaw had to offer, Bastian always wondered why Lukas insisted he was a homebody when he so greatly reveled in the adventure of finding new places and new things to remember and share with others.

They eventually hopped on a train and found themselves at the Royal Palace at Wilanow. Lukas said it reminded him of the Royal Palace in England but soon got bored, and they went off again to explore the rest of the city.

In Bastian’s free hand, he held Lukas’ phone, taking pictures every so often but definitely not as much as Lukas would have preferred him to, but he wasn’t one for taking pictures like Lukas was. However, he occasionally did also sneak in pictures of himself and of Lukas’ back as they walked, framed by the bright sun.

Lazienki Park was just like how he remembered it the last time they were there to see the lake. Except, he could appreciate the splendor better now that they weren’t being mobbed by the wrong fans at the wrong time.

They walked around taking more pictures until they found a food cart selling pierogis and decided to eat by the lake. Lukas quickly found a private, shaded nook to settle down and eat in further down from the lake view.

As they ate side by side against the wide tree base, Bastian felt his desire to kiss Lukas spike. On his own, hundreds of miles away, he thought he was able to handle these types of impulses fairly well, but he wasn’t hundreds of miles away now. He was sitting right next to him with their shoulders touching in a way that reminded him of that night he stole a kiss. It made him think he could get away with it again. It emboldened him.

So much so that his hand moved on its own and reached out to wipe away the crumbs at the corner of Lukas' mouth.

He felt Lukas stiffen, and his eyes snapped up to see Lukas’ surprised ones. He froze then, with his hand resting awkwardly against Lukas’ cheek, control returning too late. He blamed his stupidity on all of the movies Sarah made him watch, the ones that he secretly enjoyed and shamefully suggested Lukas watch, too.

Promptly, as he combusted internally with morbid embarrassment, he did the only thing he could do. He laughed and played it off as a joke. And, God damn it, with their friendship on the line, he made sure he sounded genuine.

He thought about how he usually acted when he tried to pull a prank on him and boisterously added, “What, you really thought I was going to kiss you? In your dreams, Poldi.”

Something changed in his expression when he blinked, but Bastian couldn’t dwell on it because his hand had been cupping his cheek for far longer than was appropriate for a joke and dropped it as casually as he could, gripping the grass with it before it could do more damage.

He only really relaxed when Lukas shoved him.

“ _My_ dreams? You sure about that, Basti?” He asked, swatting at the tips of his hair. “That’s the second time you’ve made a move on me, you know…” He paused to think, tapping his chin. “Eh, at least you remembered to do it in private this time.”

“Shut up,” he said, shoving back and successfully pushing him off balance. “I told you I was too happy to know what I was doing. I would’ve kissed the pole if it was close enough.”

“But it wasn’t, and you kissed this Pole instead.”

“Hilarious, Luki.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

As Lukas laughed at him, Bastian had nothing good to say in retaliation and instead resorted to stabbing a pierogi with his fork and shoving it into Lukas’ mouth, almost choking him.

When he was sure he wasn’t going to die from asphyxiation by pierogi, Lukas took revenge by pinning Bastian against the tree with one hand and grabbing the pierogis with his other, shoving them against his mouth.

The tussle didn’t last long after they quickly ran out of food to shove in each others’ faces, realized they were two grown men, and decided to stop, neither really regretting their small scale food fight.

The sun set dipped below the horizon in front of them, leaving streaks across the sky and making it chilly. And, eventually, they called it quits, taking a cab back to the hotel because, as good as Lukas was at finding fun places to explore, he was shit at getting them back, and Bastian was too lethargic to even attempt to read a map.

With lunch only half eaten, they decided on an early dinner as soon as they got back. Lukas flopped down on his bed and phoned room service, ordering his favorite dishes and a few he knew Bastian would like.

Partway through their dinner, Thomas and a few of the younger members of the team came by to invite them to an apparently famous night club in Praga.

Almost instantly, they declined, holding off against the pleas that they were only in Warsaw for so long.

When they left, Bastian commented from the foot of the bed, “They’re idiots if they think they’re not going to regret it at practice tomorrow.”

Sitting cross legged and on the bed as well, Lukas pointed out, “You know that used to be us, right? Well, you anyway.”

“What? How?”

“Did you already forget the kind of idiot you were back then, Basti?”

“How was I an idiot?”

“You went out at night, too. To the clubs, to the bars, to wherever, and you never cared about what time practice was.”

Bastian took a moment to process what Lukas was trying to tell him and thought about his first couple of years on the team. Falling backward onto the bed, he threw his arm over his eyes and declared with a sigh, “Oh God, I was such a stupid shit. Micha was a saint.”

“Yep. And, now you’re in charge of the new _stupider_ shits. We’re part of the older generation now, Basti. It’s pretty weird but pretty amazing, too.”

“Amazing in the way that I want to throw myself out the window. We pulled some pretty stupid pranks, Luki. Just think.”

“We still pull some pretty stupid pranks now… Remember Manu and the duck posters we put up?”

“That was genius!”

“Manu wouldn’t talk to us for a week.”

“That’s because you kept quacking whenever he opened his mouth!”

“You dared me to!”

“Fine. It’s all my fault. Just finish your damn cheesecake so we can figure out what we can do without games.”

“That’s your fault, too. I would’ve remembered them if you didn’t want to talk when I had to pack.”

“You looked like you were done.”

“I thought I was!”

“Which is your fault.”

Lukas threw his hands in the air, flicking the back of Bastian’s head as he brought them down.

Without the games, they settled on watching movies in Lukas’ room instead of just going to sleep because it was far too early even though they were tired—not that they were trying to prove a point.

However, while they were dozing off to the beginning of their second movie, _Freier Fall_ ,—a movie that Thomas promised him would be perfect for him and Lukas—Bastian’s phone rang. It vibrated and buzzed to the tune of Britney Spears’ _Toxic_ , and he instantly knew it was Thomas. Thomas was the only one who would go into his phone and personalize his ring tone to something so ridiculous.

He picked up the phone grudgingly, nudging Lukas off his arm as he did so. Instantly, Lukas jerked fully awake and stretched, and Bastian tried not to stare as his shirt was pulled across his chest and left a sliver of skin exposed.

“What?” He answered impatiently.

“Hey, Basti!”

Thomas’ voice came over too enthusiastically and Bastian winced, holding the phone further away from his ear.

“What is it, Tommy?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. Thomas was using the voice that meant someone fucked up, and Bastian would not like it.

“We lost the puppy.”

“What?”

“We lost Erik.”

He shot up immediately. “What?! How the fuck do you lose a person?”

He felt Lukas shift and sit next to him, trying to listen, and he positioned it between them. When Lukas’ hand came over his to stabilize it, Bastian breathed deeply to reprioritize himself. One of his youngest players was missing in a foreign city, and he needed to find him before Jogi found out, and they were all screwed.

“Tell everyone to stay where they are,” he growled. “We’ll come to you first and figure it out then.”

“We?”

“Me and Lukas,” he answered in annoyance. “You think I can deal with you fuckers alone?”

“Uh, no. It’s just… you two really aren’t trying too hard to shake off those rumors, are you?”

“Laugh and die.”

“I’ll message you the address then. See you soon, Basti. Hope we didn’t interrupt anything.”

Bastian growled menacingly into the phone, but Thomas had predictably hung up as soon as possible, and moments later, he got the address for the club.

Bastian honestly didn’t want to leave. He just wanted to go back to sleeping next to Lukas under the pretense of watching a movie. But, now he had to go find the team’s newest puppy.

Picking himself up off the bed, he grabbed his jacket and a reluctant Lukas and headed out, hailing a cab at the curb of the hotel. On the way, he called Manuel and demanded to know why he let Thomas out with the others without supervision.

“Is he in trouble?” Manuel asked disinterestedly.

“Yes.”

“Is he going to die?”

Bastian paused before gritting out, “Not from the trouble he’s in now…”

“Then it’s not my problem. Night.”

He swore as the keeper hung up easily.

When they got there, Thomas told them that Erik called them from another shop nearby while the Bender twins hung back nervously with Matthias, not willing to incur their captain’s wrath.

After Lukas was forced to hold him back from wiping the shit eating grin off Thomas’ face, they awkwardly crammed themselves back into the cab towards a small hamlet just outside the Praga district.

The taxi stopped in front of a small sweets shop where they spotted Erik through the window being coddled by an elderly woman Bastian guessed was the owner. The only highlight of their ridiculous search was that the owner was fond of pinching cheeks and thought Erik’s cheeks turned the most adorable shade of red.

Lukas graciously and wisely volunteered to sit in the tightly packed back seat with the younger members to avoid Bastian potentially strangling one of them, namely Thomas. And, the ride back was markedly uneventful and silent with only minimal remarks from Thomas about how he wanted to go back to try some of the candy from the shop.

Standing in front of Lukas’ room, Bastian helped the semiconscious Lukas stay upright as he attempted to unlock the door. When he heard the lock finally click open, Bastian looked each troublemaker in the eye and soberly told them, “What’re you still following me for? Fuck off and go to sleep already. If you idiots wake us up again, and no one’s dying, someone _will_. Practice is at eight. Don’t be late.”

Slamming the door behind him, the two kicked off their shoes and fell asleep as soon as they hit the sheets.

.

Thomas watched with an interested expression as Bastian followed Lukas into his room and opened his mouth to comment, but Sven elbowed him hard as Lars clamped his hand over his mouth, dragging him away in tandem. Erik and Matthias awkwardly exchanged glances and headed towards their own rooms, silently promising each other never to be a part of Thomas’ plans ever again.

.

The next day was more of the same with light practice in the morning. Everyone was there early, for once, and Bastian figured he was officially the grouchy old man who yelled at kids who walked through his yard because the brats actually did as they were told that day, too.

He shared this thought with Lukas while they took the train to Market Square in the Old Town, but Lukas offered no sympathy, and he wondered why he expected anything else. He sorely missed the other three. Together, he didn’t think they were old, just experienced. But with them retired from the national team, he couldn’t help but look at the newer members with wistful nostalgia.

At the bakery that he and Lukas just _had_ to stop at when they got into town, Lukas took yet another picture of the two of them. He watched as Lukas posted it online to all his accounts without any captions or descriptions.

“Run out of things to tag?”

“You don’t know me at all.”

“I know you too well. What’re you up to?” He asked suspiciously.

Lukas’ grin turned devious but he remained silent.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said, taking a nonchalant bite of his piernik.

“Lukas.”

“Bastian.”

“Tell me.”

“No please?”

“Please stop being a dick.”

“Now you’ll never find out.”

He rolled his eyes at his friend. “Tell me, _please_?”

“Okay, but I shouldn’t give in so easily to you. I spoil you too much as it is.”

“Right,” he snorted.

He finished up the last piece of his pastry and finally revealed, “Just wanted to piss them off a little.”

“Who? How?”

“The reporters. Everyone giving us shit over nothing.”

“Okay, but how…?”

“You don’t think it’d drive them crazy not knowing anything about the picture I just took? Sure, they might use it against us, but they’d hate not knowing if they were right or not.”

Bastian leaned back in his chair, contemplating. “You… are ridiculous.”

“I know how they think, Basti. Trust me.”

He gave him an indulgent smile and rolled his eyes dramatically, as if Lukas were truly exasperating, to which Lukas responded by taking another picture of him and posting that online as well.

.

He walked around the shops with Lukas until dinner time, picking up a few souvenirs for Sarah, thinking that she’d appreciate the gift as a sign that he was open to continuing their friendship. Lukas didn’t say anything, but he felt his eyes on his back as he purchased it. He felt Lukas was displeased and stowed Sarah’s gift bag in one of the others, out of sight.

For dinner, they rounded everyone up and ate at the hotel restaurant on the first floor.

Lukas said it was so the team could bond, but Bastian wanted to keep an eye on everyone so that nothing like last night happened before their match. With each worry, he felt the gray in his hair grow past its current reaches. And, though the night ended without any incident and everyone had promised to stay in the hotel, Bastian was slightly disappointed with the success because now he belatedly realized he didn’t have an excuse to sleep over in Lukas’ room.

He lingered at his door though, willing an invitation but receiving none, and eventually bade Lukas a good night.

.

The whistle blew shrilly.

Bastian watched in furious rage as Lukas dropped to the grass yet again. Only, he didn’t get up like all the other times. He sprinted to Lukas in panic, pushing friend and foe alike out of his way.

Jerome moved to the side to let Bastian into the circle consisting of two referees, a couple other players, and the team medics. In the middle of it all, Lukas was laid flat on his back with his face twisted in agony.

As if he could sense him, Lukas grunted through clenched teeth, “I’ll be fine, Basti. Don’t worry about me.”

Bastian didn’t believe it for even a fraction of a second.

One medic pressed at his left thigh, massaging it, trying to ease his pain, while the other tried to coax information from Lukas about what he was feeling.

Bastian knew that some people considered Lukas a traitor because he played for Germany instead of his birthplace, and he was able to somewhat understand their feelings no matter how ridiculous it seemed because he always tried his best to be understanding. But as he stared into the hard, remorseless eyes of the player who blatantly fouled Lukas, Bastian found new, unfettered hate for fellow man inside him.

The hate ignited his soul to a manic frenzy, and he felt a wall slam him back suddenly. When the anger receded to the corners of his vision, he saw Jerome and Mario over him, struggling to keep him down.

They were shouting at him to stop, but he was too pissed to respond. By the time Manuel showed up to talk to the referee, Bastian was able to transiently recall the few moments prior where he had tried to rush tackle the fucking forward who hurt Lukas. Didn’t they see what had happened? His tackle would’ve been justified; it would have been justice.

When Manuel finished talking to the referees who gave Bastian’s now arch enemy and himself yellow cards, he walked towards him with a concerned expression. From behind him, he saw Lukas being carried off in a stretcher and resolved to do something to right the wrong.

“Philipp isn’t here anymore, Basti,” Manuel told him seriously upon seeing his incensed expression. “I know it’s Poldi, but you are our captain now,” he stressed loudly. “You have to act like it.”

Bastian was ready to tell him off, more out of anger than for any other reason, until Manuel leaned in closer to whisper, “But… no one will blame you if you forget for a little while. Just be smart about it, alright? I hate being captain.”

Manuel then clapped him on his back and gave him a pointed look before running back to his position by the goal.

Speechless, Bastian turned to his teammates who had appeared behind him. Erik had been newly called in as Lukas’ substitute, but he and the others showed equal concern and solidarity for both their captain and Lukas.

Steeling his back, he nodded to each of them, and they dispersed with solemnity, prepared for Bastian to lead them into what very well might be a bloody battle.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I want to say I won't have time to write the next chapter until after my two tests next week, but you'll see me on tumblr and stuff, so I'll save myself the effort. ^^ Catch you guys later. I hope you guys liked the little sneak peek last night as well haha.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I usually like to use real names/characters/whatever to make things more realistic, but… it’d be rude and disrespectful to Poland’s players whom I know next to nothing about and who are just innocent bystanders in this story. Sorry Poland and fans of Poland nt. :( Just sit back, and it’ll all be over soon… :(( Or skip it?? :( I tried really hard not to reference/identify their team at all.

**State of the Union**

.

Riots might’ve broken out during the ninety minutes plus four minutes extra time, but they wouldn’t have known because they were dealing with their own personal clashes on the field.

They had played disgracefully, they knew. There was little sportsmanship if any from the moment Lukas was carried off the field from any of the players.

Unsurprisingly, Bastian was the first to be sent off. He had been carded for reckless behavior when he shoved his way between two players who had cornered Christoph, causing all three to crash into each other but allowing at least Christoph to avoid injury.

Fortunately, in the mere ten minutes prior, Bastian had successfully edged his bitter enemy into a goal post, knocking him out and leading to his substitution. At that point, there was no real reason left for Bastian to stay on the field, other than to actually play the game as it was meant to be. But, his mind was elsewhere, and elsewhere was wherever they’d taken Lukas.

Sami was the next to go, not putting up much of a fight as he went. Though he denied doing it on purpose as he came off the field, he had been red carded for violently throwing down the player who had coincidentally been the one who rammed into Mesut when the ball was nowhere near him.

On top of the two red cards were the eight total yellow cards the eleven players shared amongst themselves.

Thomas, on the other hand, was one of the few who didn’t get carded. Though, that didn’t mean he played cleanly. He played for Lukas and his captain first, but by the end, he played for Miro, who most definitely wouldn’t have approved of his methods, but that didn’t matter. Miro had been insulted repeatedly in front of him, used to goad him, and Thomas gave them what they wanted, making sure they learned not to try that tactic again.

As he watched from the sideline, Bastian was overcome with an intense curiosity as to how Thomas managed to avoid any penalties whatsoever for his playing style. It was like at the end of their game with Scotland where even Bastian admitted he had blatantly fouled the other player. Thomas must have had some kind of hypnotic sway over the referees, he figured. Or, at least some uncanny persuasive ability.

But, Thomas wasn’t the only who had played for Miro.

Erik had heard Miro’s name among the string of words from the opposing team’s mouths but was too far to hear anything else. But, by gauging Thomas’ reaction and increasingly aggressive attitude afterward, he drew his own conclusions.

Unfortunately, for Erik, he didn’t have Thomas’ luck. Not only did he get carded, he got body slammed and trampled for his effort. But, by the end of the match, the pain didn’t matter, and the card mattered less. The team was his family. And, Miro was the _opa_ , and that was that.

To be fair, Bastian hadn’t meant to let it get that far. He would’ve been content to call it even after he knocked out the other player, but there were outside factors that were beyond his control. After the other player was subbed out and his teammates reasonably concluded that Bastian had done it in retaliation, it became an absolute free for all from both sides, each team giving as good as they got. Done any other way, it might have been a touching display of team unity. Their way, it was a mess. Touching, but an absolute mess.

Once or twice, Bastian almost forgot he was playing football. He just wanted to throw the other players down as hard as he could, especially after their comments. In the football community, as with other sports, he’d known there was a level of bigotry regarding homosexuality, but he’d never come face to face with it on the field until that match

He didn’t know Polish; Lukas was only able to teach him a few swear words and phrases. But the way they had been used in conjunction with his and Lukas’ name, he didn’t have to know the language to understand anyway.

Though not as high a count as their own, the opposing team had an impressive number of cards as well with just one red and six yellow cards by the end of the game.

The red card had come from one player’s hilariously misguided attempt to force Manuel to stay in his box.

Shortly after Bastian had been sent off, Manuel had been designated the temporary captain, much to his intense annoyance. But, he figured, since they made him captain, he should be in closer proximity to his team so he could actually do his duty as captain. That resulted in him constantly being present deep into midfield, particularly so for a goalkeeper, and constantly thwarting their attempts to score despite his unorthodox position.

Having been fed up with Manuel’s antics, the player had grabbed Manuel by his shirt and tried to drag him back to the goal. However, in his anger, he’d forgotten that the already-pissed-off-at-having-to-be-captain-because-his-idiot-of-a-captain-didn’t-fucking-listen-to-him goalkeeper was a full head taller than him, which meant the only reason he was uninjured was by the grace of referee intervention.

.

The end result was 1-0 in their favor thanks to Thomas’ goal shortly after half time, but Jogi was far from pleased if his folded arms and thin lipped frown were any indication.

He said nothing as they walked back from the field. However, Bastian knew he understood their feelings perfectly because he had the power to reign them in before it got too far but didn’t. More so, even with his grim expression, he had told Bastian where the doctor had taken Lukas, knowing that Bastian would want to see him above all else.

Or perhaps it had more to do with Lukas, he thought. Bastian always knew that Lukas was one of Jogi’s favorites. He’d leave the why’s to that for later.

Sidestepping the passersby quickly, Bastian half sprinted to the clinic bay area where Jogi told him Lukas had been taken to.

Making his way through a few rooms and quickly chatting with a nurse, he found his friend laying down on the last bed in a row of other empty ones with pillows propping his head up.

Lukas’ eyes had left the screen and were on him as he tried to walk calmly towards him. He might enjoy the attention at any other time, but the channel was still tuned to their match. And, he figured Lukas had seen their shameful performance.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure how Lukas would react. But, his doubt was indicative of the very probable possibility of it not going very well.

“Good, someone’s come. I need to discuss Lukas’ treatment. Are you the…” he trailed off, finally glancing up from his magazine to face him. “Oh. You’re that other one from the papers. I suppose it’s okay this time,” he said disinterestedly. “Far be it from me to stand in the way of progress.”

Bastian’s head turned to meet the source of the voice and was surprised to see the doctor standing there. He’d been so intent on Lukas that he hadn’t considered another person being in the room, healthcare professional or not.

The doctor didn’t seem to notice Bastian’s surprise or his confusion however, or he didn’t care, and imperviously stated, “Lukas will be fine. But—”

Bastian inhaled sharply.

“—he will need to rest for the next two days. He’s not to engage in any physical activity whatsoever that requires the use of his lower extremities during that time.  _Anything_. Especially not practice.”

“What happened?” He asked, after getting over the disappointment. He had been prepared for something much, much worse, and while it wasn’t the greatest of news, he took it as a boon.

“From what I can tell, when the other player collided into Lukas, there was enough force focused on Lukas’ left thigh to cause a grade 1 muscle strain. Painful? Incredibly. But, we’ve taken care of the pain for now. He might feel soreness later today or tomorrow as the medication wears off. It’s normal. And alone, the injury he sustained wouldn’t be a problem. However, since Lukas was previously seriously injured in the same area multiple times before, we need to take greater precaution to avoid critical damage. Hence, the need for him to _rest_ _for the next forty eight hours at minimum_ ,” the doctor stressed. He looked at the two doubtfully, as if he knew they wouldn’t listen to him.

“In the meantime, he’ll have to keep it iced and elevated for pain and swelling, blah, blah, blah… I can write you a prescription for a topical or oral pain medication. However, you two have dealt with these types of injuries before, I’m sure, so you know how to handle it. And I believe you’ll be traveling elsewhere in a day’s time for your next match, so you won’t have time to pick up your script anyway. So, there are over the counter pain medications I’m also sure you’re familiar with as well if you feel the situation calls for it. And, finally, I’d really like to make it home before the riots break out, so if there’s nothing else?...”

Before leaving, he stared at Bastian from above his spectacles, and with left the same level of disinterest, he declared “It was certainly a match to remember, gentleman.”

The door closed, and Bastian breathed out heavily, “Two days, huh? It’s close, but—”

“But, Jogi won’t start me or sub me in against Ireland.”

“You don’t know that. It’s just—it’s not fair...”

Bastian was indescribably angry. Not at Lukas—never at Lukas—but at the situation Lukas was forced into. That the forward had forced him into. Ever since he had fully recovered from his injury during the World Cup, Lukas had worked hard to prove to Jogi and the others that he was still in top form. And, finally— _finally_ —,Jogi had given him the go ahead, given his approval, and started him. And, now they were back to square one. Worse than square one because now his fitness was in question. No one wanted a player who was constantly injured.

And, Bastian knew. He fucking _knew_ that people would think that Lukas only got to start because he was captain now. But, it wasn’t true. Partly because he didn’t have that kind of sway with a coach like Jogi, but mostly because it would be insulting to Lukas. Fixing it in Lukas’ favor would have been akin to saying that he didn’t believe in Lukas, and _that_ definitely wasn’t true.

“Not always, but I’ll work even harder to make up for it.” Lukas looked carefully at Bastian.

He flinched under his scrutiny, bracing himself, but nothing came. Finally, he confessed, “I had to, Luki.”

“You dishonored Germany, football, our team, and our fans.”

“I—”

He cut him off pointedly. “ _And_ , you let our teammates do the same.”

“It was their decision—”

Again, he interrupted him. “They wouldn’t have done anything without your approval. They look up to you, Basti. Not just as captain. You know how they are, especially the young ones.”

Leaning forward with both hands on Lukas’ bed, Bastian held Lukas’ gaze and asked, “You think they would’ve done it if they didn’t want to? _You_ know them, too, Luki. They did it because they wanted to and they wanted to because it was you.”

“It wasn’t serious.”

“You were on the ground, and you couldn’t get up. We aren’t a team—we aren’t _family_ if we let some fucker get away with doing that to you.” Impassioned, he told him, “We did it for you.”

“I know,” he said, blinking. “Thank you. Really, thank you. But, you should’ve known better. I’m not worth all that, Basti. Germany—”

“Germany loves you, Poldi. They’ll understand.” He sat on the edge of his bed, covering his left hand with both of his. And, under his breath, he bitterly muttered, “Unlike Poland.”

Lukas seemed to shut his eyes painfully, and Bastian felt his hand tighten into a fist under his.

“There will always be people who hate me because they think I betrayed my birthplace,” he said slowly. “I can’t do anything about that. But, the people who think that are very few. The rest understand and support me.”

“And today was just a bad day?”

“Today was an unfortunate…”

“Unfortunate? You can’t—that’s—you’re going to be out for two days! It could’ve been worse. You could’ve—could have never been able to play again, Luki,” he spluttered.

“But, I can. So, it’s okay.”

“You’re missing another chance to start!”

“You take the good with the bad.”

Incredulous, Bastian asked, “Why are you acting like this? Why would you still want to defend them?”

“Because this is my home.”

Something pounded against the walls of Bastian’s chest, and his palms grew sweaty. He had said it so plainly, like it was the most obvious fact. Like nothing else could be true. He knew Lukas never thought of England as home, but he— _Germany_ couldn’t compete against his place of birth for home if that was how he felt.

“Both are my home. Poland _and_ Germany,” he said knowingly at Bastian’s silence, taking his other hand and placing it on top of Bastian’s. “I take the good and the bad from both.”

Bastian shifted further onto the bed as Lukas sat up, pulling him with him slightly.

“It’s the same with Germany. Some people there don’t like me either or don’t think I belong on the same team as you because they don’t think I deserve to. Because I don’t sing the anthem. Because I’m not a real German.”

He couldn’t deny having heard the hurtful things they had to say and the grief they gave his friend. At times, even _he_ found himself exasperated with his motherland, or rather, the slanderous people who lived within its borders. It made him want to know even more how he was able to handle it all with an unfaltering spirit.

“How? How can you just be okay with everything?”

“They’re both home for me, and I love them.”

“But, _how_ , Luki? I don’t understand.”

“Then maybe you don’t understand love, mein hase. But, I know you do.”

Lukas squeezed his hand again and moved to one side, motioning for him to sit beside him.

And, shockingly or not, Lukas was right.

As he cautiously brought himself fully onto the bed and situated himself next to Lukas, he concluded that he did know too well what love was. He knew instinctively and consciously that no matter what Lukas did, Bastian would accept him, faults and all. Even if he got hurt as a result—and there were times when he had been hurt badly—, he would accept Lukas and return to him anyway because he loved him, completely and wholly. Unconditionally.

“You’re right... “ He nodded meaningfully, adding, “That’s why I won’t regret doing it for you. It was worth it. You are worth it.”

“Thank you, Basti,” he said softly.

The bed was slim. Mathematically, it shouldn’t have been wide enough to keep the both of them safely on it, but they made it work. Bastian had maneuvered them so that Lukas sat with his half of his back leaning into Bastian’s chest. Their hands were firmly held between their bodies, and they stayed there, staring at the television and listening to the post match commentary.

.

Lukas’ shoulders were weighed down with guilt. His teammates had basically sacrificed their integrity for him, and he felt like he fell short of whatever his teammates saw in him that would make them even consider such a thing.

But, Bastian seemed to think otherwise. According to him, he was ‘worth it.’ He wondered how much of that declaration was clouded by his own personal opinion.

Sidling up closer to Bastian, Lukas briefly tried to resist the urge to nestle his head into the crook of his shoulder but gave in almost immediately. When he felt him let go of his hand, his heart rate quickened, thinking that he’d overstepped some hidden boundary despite the evidence to the contrary that crossing boundaries were more than welcome. He stayed still, ready to feign sleep, until that same hand came around his side and pulled him in close with a reassuring tug before resting above his hip bone.

“You have enough room? Want me to get off so you can rest?”

“No, I’m good now. Thanks,” he said, embarrassed. Eventually, Lukas tore his attention away from the hand that had remained at his hip. Bastian had begun to subconsciously rub circles into the skin there, and it made him feel uncomfortably hot. Mouth dry, he asked, “Where is everyone else?”

“Uhh…”

Bastian hadn’t even thought that his teammates might want to see Lukas as well. He had been too focused on finding him first. “They’ll get us when we have to leave?”

“Or, we can take an extended vacation. Not like I can play like this anyway,” he joked, gesturing to his left leg.

“Just two days. You’re still coming with us to the Ireland match, though, right?”

He rolled his eyes, “I have to. You might kill someone if I don’t.”

“Just Tommy. That’s not so bad.”

“ _And_ you promised we could share rooms. What happened with that? You can’t forget again this time, Basti,” he said, pinching Bastian’s thigh.

“Ow,” he exclaimed, feigning pain. “I didn’t forget. Jogi switched to a different hotel because it was closer to the practice pitch. What, you wanted to room with me that much?”

Lukas made a noncommittal noise before closing his eyes.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, it just happened. He was too drained and too comfortable, and he was pretty sure the doctor had slipped him something unnecessary for his own amusement.

.

In the front of the bus on the way back to their hotel, Matthias whispered conspiratorially to Erik, “He was practically in his _lap_.”

Surprised, Erik loudly exclaimed, “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” He hissed, shushing him. He normally didn’t like to talk behind others’ backs, but he had to talk about this to someone. It only made sense he’d tell his closest friend on the team. “Captain Basti didn’t even notice me until I told him we were leaving. He was like, staring at the First Lady like… you know how they get.”

“But, you said he was sleeping, so maybe…”

“Maybe the First Lady climbed on top of Captain Basti in his sleep, and Captain Basti was too busy staring at something _else_ to notice? I swear he was going to kiss him. Like seriously kiss him.”

“Yes. It’s possible. And why do keep you calling them that?”

“What? Vice Captain Muller told me to call him that…”

Erik looked at him oddly. Gently, he tried to explain, “… But…‘First _Lady’_? I don’t think he was serious.”

“But I was calling the First—uh, Poldi that all day yesterday, and he didn’t say anything to me?”

“It’s cause the First Lady wants everyone to know Basti’s taken,” said a voice from above them.

The two boys jumped in their seats and stifled a shocked scream.

Thomas grinned mischievously from above them. “So, _Matzi_ , what’s this I hear about our Captain almost kissing the First Lady, hmm?”

The younger pair looked at each other, knowing they’d never get away under normal circumstances. On a bus, they might as well just not bother expending the extra energy trying.

.

Their next game against Ireland was only four days away. Normally, that meant that they’d get to travel together directly to Gelsenkirchen. However, this time, it also meant that they would, as a team, get to witness their captain coddle another grown man.

From the moment they left the clinic bay area, Bastian had helped Lukas get around, holding him up as he walked and making sure he didn’t go anywhere without him, including the restroom, much to the amusement of everyone but Lukas. And, despite the availability of rooms, he had insisted that they room together anyway.

Their usual team practitioner tried telling him it wasn’t necessary, but Bastian had spectacularly called him a quack and overruled him.

“It’s cute, kind of, right?” Christoph had asked Benedikt. He stared straight ahead at the pitch towards the two people to whom he was referring, not wanting to look directly into Benedikt’s eyes—or anyone else’s—that particular moment.

Unfortunately, Benedikt hadn’t heard a word. He was busy openly staring as Bastian attentively and meticulously massaged Lukas’ thigh. His fingers worked their way indecently _high_ up on his leg, moving up towards his hip even. He knew it helped and had a clinical basis, but watching Bastian do it to Lukas made him feel inexplicably dirty.

But, he couldn’t look away.

He was oddly intrigued and turned on by their mating ritual and wanted to learn more.

Then, he remembered Christoph was there and instantly covered the innocent boy’s eyes with his hands, wordlessly steering him towards the other end of the field.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oh, Christoph. You wonderfully confused boy.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Would you believe this story was supposed to go in a completely different direction? Oh plot, you always seem to get away from me. It was also supposed to be a quick thing. Ha. Why do I even bother with story outlines? Also, thank you everyone for your support!! ^^ I really appreciate it. It helps to justify the hours I spend not studying… or having a social life. Like now.  
> Side note (as if this wasn’t already), if Arsenal beats Tottenheim 3-1 and Bayern beats Koln 2-1, then I’m going to consider schweinski official and married. Sorry, I don’t make the rules. But, if this does happen, I do make the laws of the universe, apparently. So there’s that.

**State of the Union**

.

Lukas kept as still as he could with Bastian’s hands pressing against his skin.

First, he was forced to put up with Bastian following him around _everywhere_. Lukas conceded that it was normal for him to be concerned, especially since the doctor had told him Lukas might need help getting around. And, it was nice sharing a room together so no one would comment if they were both in the room together.

But, then there was the nagging. He had to listen to Bastian nagging him about keeping his own thigh properly iced and elevated. Then subsequently, he had to listen to Bastian telling him he was doing it wrong and then doing it all himself.

On top of that, there was the constant hovering, coddling, and genuine concern. That last one was the worst because he knew Bastian just wanted to make sure he was okay. And, _that_ made him feel ungrateful.

Still, he put up with all of it.

He even put up with Bastian spoon feeding him.

But every man had a limit.

He closed his eyes and sighed as Bastian’s fingers inched upward.

“Feel good?”

“Mmm,” he sighed again in response. He felt Bastian’s eyes on him and told him, “I think you can stop now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t mind,” Bastian stated, still rubbing his thigh.

“I’m fine,” he repeated more firmly. He was fine now. He was fine yesterday. And, he was fine the day before that. He grabbed hold of Bastian’s not quite wandering hands and stood up. Turning the focus on Bastian, he asked, “Have you even warmed up yet? You’re starting, right?”

While Lukas helped him up, he answered, “Yeah, but I warmed up with you already.”

He put his hands on his hips and quirked a brow at him. “You barely let me kick the ball back to you.”

“You’re a lot stronger than you think, Poldi,” he said, nudging him off balance.

Lukas caught himself and pushed back. “Watch it. I’m still recovering.”

“So you aren’t ‘fine’? Sit down and let me make it up to you then.”

“Nice try. Come on. We can run a few laps before people start coming in.”

Alarmed, Bastian’s overprotective nature kicked in at his suggestion. “I can run alone. Why don’t you just time me?”

Lukas rolled his eyes and shook his head in wry amusement before taking off without another word, knowing Bastian would follow to probably make sure he didn’t run too fast or something ridiculous like that.

As he ran, he tried to let the ache in his muscles mask the heat from Bastian’s touch. There were so many reasons to run.

.

He appreciated that Jogi wanted the younger players to get more experience, and he knew he wasn’t in top condition; however, he might have preferred sitting on the bench more if it weren’t for an insistent mosquito buzzing in his ear and commenting on how noble and fit their captain looked. It wouldn’t have been too bad if there wasn’t the underlying insinuation that Lukas in particular would enjoy the sight.

Mercifully, with a two to nothing lead, Bastian was subbed out in the second half by Julian, which meant that they could ignore Thomas together.

.

Bastian jogged off the field, wiping the sweat off his face with a towel. When he saw Jogi, he remembered Manuel’s threat.

So, instead of going to sit next to Lukas, he veered slightly off to the right.

Within arms’ reach, Jogi clapped him on the back and gave him an approving nod.

“What is it, Basti?”

“Manu said he wants to be subbed out.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, he just hates being captain.”

“There’s twenty minutes left.”

“He _really_ hates being captain.”

“He’s going to have to deal with it then. He’s the most capable on the field right now.”

Rubbing his neck nervously, Bastian tried to casually pass on the rest of Manuel’s message. “He said he refuses to play from inside the box if you don’t.”

Jogi’s brow rose, and he looked behind Bastian towards their sides goal. From where they stood, they both could see the determination behind his stance, already on the outside of the goalkeeper’s lines.

Sighing, Jogi pinched the bridge of his nose. “Children. You’re all a bunch of children.”

Bastian didn’t reply, choosing instead to stay silent and avoid any misdirected backlash. When Jogi motioned for Ron-Robert to come onto the field to replace Manuel, he pulled his shirt collar up to hide his grin.

Turning back to the bench, his eyes sought Lukas, barely acknowledging the others who congratulated him on a job well done. Finding him near Thomas, he determinedly grabbed his stuff, pointedly maintaining eye contact as he walked past him and sat further down where there was no one else.

He didn’t have to wait too long for Lukas to drop into the seat next to him.

“Good job, Basti,” he said immediately.

A few seats down, Thomas called out, “He means you looked _great_ out there!”

Apparently, they weren’t far enough.

As odd as Thomas’ intonation was, Lukas’ scowl was odder and he questioned his friend silently.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s never nothing with Tommy.”

“Then, you don’t want to know.”

“Does it have anything to do with the way he’s raising his eyebrows, winking, and licking his lips at us right now?”

Lukas glanced at him briefly. Without batting an eye, he said, “Yeah. Probably.”

“Then, you’re right.”

“Told you.”

Taking one last look back at Thomas, Bastian commented, “But, he knows he can’t wink, right? Not really, anyway…”

“You think telling him is going to stop him from doing something?”

He shook his head in fond acceptance. “True…”

For the rest of the match, the two watched their teammates work together, holding the score at two to nothing. However, they singled out Mario in particular.

Honestly, Mario had surprised the both of them, especially at the last World Cup. It’s not that they didn’t have confidence in him, they just hadn’t given any serious thought about who would take over for him when they would do the unspeakable.

Invariably, the discussion turned to Marco as it often did when Mario was mentioned. The two players’ closeness meant that they were often linked together.

The poor boy had recovered from the injury that kept him from playing during the last World Cup only to sustain another one soon after. But, he was relatively young, so he had plenty more years to play, and he had the support of Jogi and the rest of the national team. He wouldn’t be forgotten. Least of all by Mario.

.

As the conversation turned to Marco and how he was healing, Lukas inwardly considered all the ways that Mario and Marco’s relationship mirrored theirs. Despite the different paths their careers had led them, they would always be linked together.

Lukas thought the Mario and Marco’s relationship had so much potential, so much room to grow, if only they would take the chance like they wanted to. He suspected they wanted to anyway. But, speculations didn’t always pan out. People had been suspicious of him and Bastian, and they turned out… to be, more or less, true. Perhaps, it was a bad example but perhaps not.

He thought about the unexpected window of opportunity he had now to change their entire dynamic.

More and more he felt Bastian wanted to cross that line from friends into something more. But, the longer he considered it a possibility and a sentiment he returned, he doubted himself. Aside from the first kiss that shattered everything he thought to be true and simple about their friendship, there had been no concrete evidence that Bastian liked him in any way other than platonic.

But, while there was nothing concrete, he was aware of a distinct current of _something_ underlying their normal routine. The electric sensation made him uncomfortable in the sense that it filled him with a restless energy, left him with the compulsion to do more. And, if anything _were_ to happen, should he want something to happen, then he was sure the duty of the first step would fall upon him.

Bastian was a martyr, and he knew Lukas. And likewise, Lukas knew him.

If Bastian felt the same spark he did, then he’d never act on it—while he thought Lukas was conscious anyway—because, in his mind, by that’s how he’d be protecting him.

Lukas had kept him up to date on how he was handling the divorce and not being able to see Louis as much as he wanted, and while it was going as well as a fairly high profile divorce could be, he had low times where he needed support. Bastian knew that fact firsthand because he’d been that support.

.

They ended the game with a score of two to one, much to Jogi’s chagrin. But, Manuel didn’t seem to mind, standing by his decision to never be captain at _all_ costs.

On the bus ride back, half of the team celebrated raucously, breaking out in song and breaking out the alcohol. The other half watched in amusement. There was an almost finite division between the younger and older players, but that didn’t mean any of them were any less proud of their team's win that day.

Bastian and Lukas opted to sit near the front, away from their rowdy friends. They had been planning their holiday break, but Bastian had fallen asleep before Lukas even could find out when exactly his vacation started. When they arrived back at the hotel, their roles had reversed, and it was Lukas who helped Bastian to their hotel room.

They collapsed onto the bed with a muffled thump. Bastian had fallen asleep again as soon as he had hit the bed, neglecting the fact that Lukas was trapped under him. Seeing no other choice, Lukas took a short nap with him.

With all the noise coming from the back of the bus and the bumpy roads, Bastian must have been exhausted to get any sleep at all. Though, he supposed, he had been worrying about him a lot and taking care of him. He even played over sixty minutes of a match on top of everything else. It was no wonder the man was wiped out.

When Lukas woke up with Bastian newly attached to his side, he took out his phone to check for messages. Jogi had sent a message saying they’d be dining in the hotel restaurant tonight before everyone had to leave tomorrow.

He looked at the clock and figured he’d give Bastian another half hour before he called him up to get ready. In the mean time, he kept his hands and mind busy by playing games on his phone and facing away from him.

“Don’t you get bored?”

“Holy fuck!” Lukas exclaimed, dropping his phone on his face. He hadn’t even felt Bastian move or anything.

Bastian laughed at his reaction, not bothering to hide his amusement. Or, move away, for that matter. Yawning, he blearily asked, “What time is it?”

“We have dinner downstairs with the team at seven. You can go back to sleep for another fifteen minutes.”

“Nah,” he declined, finally rolling over to stretch across the bed and almost hitting Lukas’ face. He sniffed at the air. “We need to shower.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“No idea,” he answered with a shrug, failing at maintaining his pretense of innocence when he couldn’t keep his face straight. Sticking his tongue out at Lukas immaturely, he fully rolled off the bed with a groan and declared, “I’ve got the shower first.”

“You do need it more,” he agreed with the innocent smile that Bastian failed at.

Wordlessly, Bastian pulled his jersey over his head and threw it at Lukas, landing in his face.

He instantly threw the offending shirt to the side and sat up to say something, but he forgot what it was.

Bastian was still in the middle of stretching, twisting his torso left and right and working out the stiffness in his broad shoulders and neck. Lukas was treated to the sight of his muscles contracting and relaxing elegantly under the dips and expanses of smooth skin.

All intention to respond died in his throat, and he fell backwards onto the bed.

When Bastian stepped out, Lukas was already prepared with his own shower things and didn’t spare him a word or glance. Only when he locked the door did the tension leave his body. He leaned against the bathroom sink, heaving a heavy sigh as he stared into his reflection.

.

Dinner turned out to be a less formal affair when they took over a large portion of the restaurant and the games were brought out.

Lukas and Bastian sat a table with Kevin—someone whom Bastian wasn’t a fan of for reasons that escaped Lukas’ understanding—, Benedikt, and Mats.

When the other three decided to join the fun where some others pushed their tables together, they tried to pull Lukas along with them, but he refused. Bastian had fallen asleep again in the middle of dessert, and he couldn’t force himself to move.

“Come on,” Kevin tried. “Basti’ll be fine on his own.”

“I can’t just leave him.”

“Why not? It’s not like he can’t take care of himself.”

“No, but what if someone does something to him?”

Tugging at his wrist, Kevin asked, “Who? This is a private restaurant for hotel guests only.”

“The hotel guests?”

He rolled his eyes, and the other two patted him on his back, giving up on persuading Lukas and leaving towards their teammates. “No one will do anything, Poldi. He’s not a baby.”

“I can’t,” Lukas insisted.

“But—”

Gruffly, from against his shoulder, Bastian told him, “Just go, Luki. I’m gonna head up to sleep in a real bed.”

“Great,” Kevin said. “See? Now we can—”

Lukas watched as Bastian swayed where he stood.

“Not alone, you’re not. You can barely stand.”

He brushed him off. “I’m fine. Go play with Doener or whatever.”

If Lukas didn’t know better, he would’ve sworn that Bastian was jealous, but that was ridiculous for so many reasons on so many levels. But, he was doing that thing he did when he got jealous, his lips were were pouting with his chin jutted out just slightly, and he one hand on his hip, too. Perhaps, it wasn’t too ridiculous an presumption.

“Yeah, he’s fine. So, let’s go.”

Standing up and lifting his arm to put around his shoulder, he told Kevin, “I’ll just help him up first.”

Bastian put up little resistance, allowing Lukas to wrap his hand around his middle to keep him steady, and the two slowly headed towards their room.

.

“But…” Kevin started, the protest disappearing as Lukas ignored him.

“That’s not how you get their attention, stupid.”

The voice called out to him from the opposite direction of where the two friends were walking off.

He turned to the large gathering of his teammates and finally noticed they’d been watching him.

Thomas continued, “Here, watch me.” Cupping his hands around his mouth, he shouted towards the pair. “Hey, Poldi! Don’t celebrate too hard up there, alright? You’re still recovering, and we need Basti for when we play Werder!”

Even exhausted and fatigued, Bastian still had the energy to flip them off while Lukas shook his head at them.

Midyawn, Bastian swore. “Fuck off, Tommy.”

Turning back to Kevin, he declared triumphantly, “See? That’s how you get their attention.”

“Okay… So, then is Poldi still coming back then? Or…”

Looking at him oddly, Thomas asked, “You actually thought he was coming back?”

“So, the rumors…”

“Are whatever Basti and Poldi say they are. Doesn't change anything for me,” he declared levelly. “Now, forget those two grandpas. Let’s play!”

.

Unlocking the door with one hand while Bastian was draped over his other side, Lukas couldn’t deny that it was convenient they shared a room.

Bastian was practically dead weight in his arms, and he could do little more than bring him to his bed. But, Bastian was more conscious than he thought and had tightened his hold on him as he tried to lay him down. Unbalanced and unprepared, Lukas went down with him. Once again, their roles were reversed in yet another situation, and he found himself sprawled across Bastian.

Bastian made a noise that Lukas took to mean he wanted him off.

Taking his time, Lukas propped himself up on his hands on either side of Bastian, almost caging him underneath. He looked down and saw Bastian had opened his eyes and was watching him.

Licking his lips as if he weren't effectively covering Bastian's body with his own, he asked, “When’s the next time you think we’ll see each other?”

Still looking up at him, Bastian tilted his head to the side, softly hitting the inside of Lukas’ wrist, and answered, “Next month. We play Gibraltar and Spain.”

“How about before that?”

“Nothing? Tomorrow, before you go to the airport, I guess.”

“And after Gibraltar and Spain?”

Bastian thought longer than he would have it he were more awake, finally coming to an answer. “Christmas, definitely.”

He nodded, accepting the answer. “And after that?”

Confused as to why Lukas was suddenly so interested in their match schedule, Bastian mentally flipped through the dates for the national matches. “March? I think. Maybe April.”

“Is that it?”

Frowning, Bastian replied, “We might have other games, I guess? After tomorrow...”

“After tomorrow,” Lukas repeated.

“Not much time left,” he commented offhandedly with a yawn, struggling to stay awake.

Moving to rest on his elbows, chest to chest with Bastian, he brushed Bastian's hair to the side, finally coming to a decision. “No, but we have it now.”

Dropping his head the few remaining centimeters necessary, Lukas decisively pressed his lips to Bastian’s.

He waited for him to respond and got nervous when he didn’t. He thought he royally fucked up and ruined their friendship because he was selfish and saw and thought things that weren’t there. Bastian was just a friend, and he ruined that.

.

_Bonus drabble that I posted on tumblr and wanted to share here as well. In response to Bastian and Lukas almost probably maybe definitely retiring in a few years. I’ve just got a lot of feelings, okay?_

 

 

> He stands on the grassy pitch with a band around his arm and a target on his back. He knows the younger players are waiting for the one injury he can’t quite walk off. But, they’re going to have to wait until he’s dragged off the field kicking and screaming and with restraints and not a second sooner.
> 
> He self-consciously bends and straightens his right leg, knowing that that particular moment isn’t too far off.
> 
> But, that’s okay because he’s not thinking about that when he’s on the field. He’s thinking about the only other person who understands. The person who makes him feel young. Like he can do anything.
> 
> That person jogs past him as if on cue. His fingers ghosted across his knuckles just barely, but it was there.
> 
> He follows without thinking, without hesitation. There’s no great enough reason to leave when Lukas gives him a reason to stay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, I thought it'd be a good idea to end the chapter there because it's late, and I don't want to rush the next chapter like I kind of did for this. Also, poor Grosskreutz. He just wants to play with Poldi. Don't we all?


	8. Chapter 8

**State of the Union**

.

A/N: It fucking escalated. A majority of this chapter is sexually explicit. Like _pretty much all of it_. Just. All of it. So, if you’ve got something against that, ~~we can’t be friends~~ I would skip this chapter and wait until I get my life together enough to write the next one or properly rewrite this chapter completely.

While you guys read this, I’m going to go sit in a corner and think about what I just did. But / _takes out a cigarette and lights it dramatically_ , I’m proud of what I’ve done here today. Also, not gonna lie, did a little day drinking for this one, which turned into all day sippin’, and if you want a soundtrack for this, I wrote it whilst listening to The Weeknd on repeat, which, let me tell you, is pretty freaking smexy but depressing as fuck at the same time. So, there’s that. Seriously, what is my life.

.

More wide awake at that moment than during the game, Bastian forced himself to remember to breathe, already lightheaded.

Lukas' lips were warmer than he remembered, and he took a moment to enjoy it, wanting to preserve it, letting it burn him from the inside out. He didn’t even think to do anything else until he felt Lukas pull away.

He whined in protest, fearing the cold that would take his place.

Panicking, his hand shot out and grabbed at Lukas collar, pulling him down forcibly. He groaned with Lukas’ body pressed flush against his.

“Don’t go,” he pleaded, wrapping his other arm around Lukas’ waist.

.

Lukas was right to make the first move.

He was so fucking relieved Bastian pulled him back. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if he hadn’t. Never come back to Germany, probably.

Swallowing thickly, he used his arms to push himself up to face Bastian, creating friction as he did. He swallowed again.

It was only a kiss, but he already had him worked up.

“No,” he agreed in a mixture of relief and exhilaration. “Never.”

Framing Bastian’s face with his hands, Lukas bent down to kiss him again and again, nipping at his bottom lip. When Bastian tilted his face just so, Lukas took advantage of the angle and held his lip firmly between his teeth, pulling at it gently before attacking his mouth once more. 

Greedily, he swiped his tongue along the seam of his mouth.

Bastian's lips parted just a fraction in response, and Lukas dipped his tongue in to taste him, exploring his mouth deftly.

Trying to catch his breath, he broke their kiss reluctantly. He fleetingly wondered how he hadn’t already combusted.

Below him, Bastian wasn’t doing any better, panting heavily and squirming against him. Dropping another kiss to his lips, Lukas propped himself up to give him some room to breathe but not quite moving away.

Carefully, Lukas’ eyes traced Bastian’s features, mesmerized. His skin glowed with dewy perspiration. Lips swollen red and parted, waiting for more. Eyes clouded with want. He wondered if Bastian knew what kind of face he was making. Never had he seen him like this before, so needy. So _vulnerable_.

So desperately wanting to be fucked.

Lukas wanted to be the only person to see him like that. Slowly, he slid his body lower, making Bastian fidget restlessly beneath him. He pressed his lips at the bottom of the column of Bastian’s neck before biting it.

“Ung,” Bastian moaned, squeezing at Lukas' waist.

Apologetically, Lukas kissed the spot with reverence. He alternated between sucking and biting at the soft skin before he was overcome with the desire to do the same to every inch of his body and elicit the same needy whimpering. Briefly pushing himself away, Lukas swiftly pulled Bastian’s shirt off before moving back to worship the newly exposed skin along Bastian’s collar bone. Stopping just at his shoulder, he bit Bastian again, immediately kissing and sucking at the abused flesh to soothe the angry red bloom.

He repeated the action across Bastian’s chest and all the way down to Bastian’s subtly jutting hips.

.

Exhaling harshly, Bastian swore, “Fuck! Luki.” His hands went to cup the back of his head, not wanting him to stop.

His hips lifted from the bed seeking _more_ , and Lukas pushed them down, splaying his fingers across his hip bones to hold him steady.

Bastian's head fell back, and he bit down hard on his lip to stop himself from crying out, but Lukas noticed anyway. He felt the vibrations from his laughter against his skin.

“Enjoying yourself, mein hase?”

He clenched his teeth. Lukas wasn’t playing fair.

Again, Lukas teased the flesh near his hip, and Bastian conceded that fair wasn’t always what was needed.

He was sensitive everywhere, but especially where Lukas rubbed up against him to create the delicious friction he craved.

It wasn't enough.

Fisting his hands into the fabric of Lukas' shirt and tugging at it helplessly, he belatedly wondered where his own went.

Vaguely, he felt Lukas remove his hands and held them to the bed, making sure he'd keep them there before letting go. Above him, Lukas shifted his weight onto Bastian’s middle, effectively pinning him down. He focused his eyes just enough to see that Lukas was taking his own shirt off.

Each plane, each line, dip, and angle was exposed to him, and Bastian took him in appreciatively, stopping only when he spotted Lukas’ grin. His eyebrow raised in unasked question.

Boldly, he bucked his hips again to spite him and saw Lukas’ mouth part. His eyes fixed on him instantly, and he was satisfied that he proved he wasn’t the only one feeling so desperate.

Leaning over to cage him once more, Lukas nibbled his ear before whispering a low warning that traveled down his spine and spread below his navel.

“Careful, Basti," he murmured. "You don't know what you're asking for.”

Holy fuck, he thought.

Then, as if his point needed further emphasis, Lukas’ tongue darted out to lick along the outer shell of his ear.

“Holy fuck,” he swore aloud, holding his hand to his face and biting his fingers. His hips bucked up again reflexively. Lukas was driving him insane, and he wanted to claw at his own skin to break free.

Pulling his hand away, Lukas covered his mouth with his own again, massaging his scalp as he deepened it. He played with Bastian's tongue, and Bastian could only think how good it would feel if his tongue were elsewhere.

Frustrated with the slowing pace, he flipped them over. Lukas was as shocked as he was, staring up at him with curious but aroused eyes. And, he didn’t stop there. Sitting with his legs on either side of his waist, Bastian fumbled with his jeans, leaning forward just enough to pull them down far enough so he could kick them off.

Inching back to sit on Lukas’ thighs now, Bastian outlined the hardness there slowly with his fingertips.

Lukas shifted and grunted with his touches.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

Honestly, Bastian answered, “I don’t know.”

He cupped him in his hand and felt him twitch beneath his fingers. The muscles in his stomach visibly tightened as well, and Bastian figured he wasn’t doing it wrong at the very least.

Sounding strained, Lukas asked, “You’re not stopping?”

It wasn’t quite an order to stop, so he didn’t. Instead, he ran his hands across Lukas chest, enjoying the feel of his skin and pausing only when Lukas’ hands came up to rest on his shoulders.

“I have no idea, but I didn’t plan on starting either,” he told him finally.

His hands continued their journey back south, reaching his jeans. He fiddled with the front, waiting for Lukas to finally tell him to stop.

When Lukas slowly and carefully lifted him off and placed him on his back, properly resting his head against the pillows, Bastian closed his eyes in acceptance.

Devastated that he had predicted correctly, he scolded himself. Of course Lukas wasn’t serious about this. They were both men, and Lukas was just confused from his divorce. They had been drinking. This meant nothing to him, and Bastian wasn’t going to cry.

He felt Lukas’ body pull away from his, and he shut his eyes tighter, tried to even out his breathing. They would never come back from this. They could never be friends after this. Not after Bastian got to see how it could be between them. The physical to complement the emotional. The wholeness. He could never come back from this.

Then, something soft pressed against each of his eyelids. When he opened them, he saw Lukas smiling down at him.

“Okay,” he said.

Dumbly, Bastian repeated, “Okay?”

When he got over his shock, he noticed there was no more coarse fabric separating him from Lukas.

He blinked rapidly, brain refusing to work with the overwhelming sensation of skin on skin and not quite believing what they had both implicitly agreed to.

“Okay,” he swallowed.

Lukas lunged forward to nuzzle at his neck, trapping him again, but he didn’t have anywhere else he wanted to be anyway.

“You need to give me more than ‘okay,’ Basti,” he said nervously. He had lost his bravado with the reality of the situation dawning on him as well.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Maybe tell me this is more than okay? I’m kind of freaking out about this.”

“I thought you wanted to… keep going? You, uh, feel like you want to keep going, but we don't have to...”

“I do!" He exclaimed, surprising Bastian with the force behind his words. "But, I... don't know,” he admitted. "I don't know... I don't want to lose you, Basti."

“That will never happen,” he told him in a matter of fact manner, surprisingly coherent and confident given the feverish state he was in and what he was thinking moments ago.

He choked out his name. “Basti…”

Bastian lifted Lukas’ head from the crook of his neck and brought his lips to his own. He had no idea how he was able to hold it together when he had no idea what he was doing either, but Lukas needed him.

“You'll never lose me, Luki. Trust me,” he said. “I trust you.”

“You trust me?”

“Enough to be okay with you fucking my ass, yeah. I trust you.”

“You’re not helping, Basti,” he groaned. His mouth was dry, mind running with images of Bastian under him. He hid his face into his neck again.

“I trust you,” he repeated. “So, trust me. Okay?”

Muffled against the skin, he replied, “Okay. I trust you.” Taking hold of his hand, he lifted it to his lips and kissed his hand across the knuckles. “Mein hase…”

.

There really was no turning back. He hadn’t expected it to get this far in the first place. A declarative kiss and a hopeful return of feelings. That was it. But, what they were in the middle of was a vertical drop into something they never discussed with each other and had only separately acknowledged very recently.

Bastian tended to have this effect on him. He pushed him and pushed him and made him want to do things he never even considered. Do things he was admittedly too scared to dream of.

This. This was fucking outside of the boundaries of even his dreams. It never crossed his mind in the slightest.

But, as Bastian’s hand reached down to stroke him, he let out a shudder and thanked God for the chance.

Resting on one arm, he bent down to kiss Bastian again and gently pushed Bastian’s questing hand aside.

He felt Bastian mumble protests against his mouth and deepened the kiss to assure him that he hadn’t changed his mind.

Slipping inside Bastian's boxers, he stroked him, feeling each ridge along his length.

Bastian was restless beneath him. He heard fabric pull taut and saw Bastian's hands tangled into the bedsheets.

Wrapping his fingers firmly around him, he slowly moved up and down in a teasing motion, using his thumb to lightly swipe at his already leaking tip. Bastian let out more moans into his mouth, and Lukas swallowed them hungrily, increasing his pace. He wanted to see Bastian surrender all of his control.

Relentlessly, he continued pumping him, never quite going fast enough until he felt Bastian put his hand over his in frustration. When Bastian finally got what he wanted, Lukas devoured the little noises he made then too. Resting his forehead on his shoulder, he let the sounds fill the air, mixing in with his own grunts, and he focused on making Bastian scream.

He bucked helplessly into their hands, thrusting upward, but he held him firm.

Bastian was already panting with exertion, the hot breaths tickling the back of Lukas' neck.

Maintaining the frenetic pace, he finally met Bastian’s thrusts with his own in sweet opposition, eliciting another lovingly obscene whimper. Bastian tried to bring his other hand to cover his mouth once more, but Lukas pinned it back down, and he gripped the sheets again, muscles tense.

Bringing his own two fingers back to Bastian’s mouth, Bastian obediently took them in, sucking and wetting them.

Kissing his neck, Lukas squeezed Bastian’s ass before taking one step further over the line. As expected, Bastian immediately tensed at the threat of intrusion, and his hand stopped, but he didn’t stop Lukas.

Thinking of an easier way to do it, Lukas reluctantly pulled himself away from Bastian.

“Luki—”

“Shh. Trust me.”

Bastian complied as Lukas turned him onto his stomach, positioning him on his knees and elbows and making sure his head was still resting on the pillows. Immediately, Bastian's hands clutched at the fabric.

Shoving his boxers off and pushing Bastian's down around his creamy thighs, he took the time to admire his sculpted ass. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it, but it was the first time he had the chance to openly ogle it without having to pretend he wasn’t staring when he was caught. In hindsight, he  _really_ should've been tipped off then.

“Luki…” Bastian whined, breaking him out of his revelry.

Lining up behind him, he took hold of Bastian in his hand again. Between Bastian’s thighs, he thrust blindly in pale imitation of the possibilities.

He heard Bastian let out a string of swear words, and he chuckled huskily, regaining his composure. He put his weight on Bastian to balance himself, trusting he'd keep them both up, and reached around Bastian’s middle to pump himself—and fuck did it feel weird and insanely hot to jerk off his best friend and himself at the same time—,coating his fingers with his own slick fluids.

When he was sure he wouldn’t hurt Bastian, he circled one finger around his hole, rubbing it and applying pressure. All the while, he never stopped kissing Bastian’s back, wanting to keep him feeling comfortable and safe.

He waited for Bastian to say something, give him a sign, but he only grunted and arched up into his touch.

Taking that to mean that Bastian was more than enjoying himself, Lukas kissed the skin at the small of his back before pressing in deeper. His muscles tensed around him, but Lukas didn’t stop, pushing deeper until his finger was all the way in, working it in tandem with his other hand and adding two more fingers to stretch and prepare him.

His cock twitched in jealousy, but he resisted the urge to fuck him senseless. It wasn’t time yet. Almost but not yet. Bastian was close. He was thrusting into his hand more frantically than before and pushing back into Lukas with wild abandon.

He was so close, getting closer and closer. Lukas could feel it.

Crooking his fingers experimentally inside him, he felt Bastian tense in response and his muscles tightly clenched around them. At the same time, he called out another vibrant string of swear words that Lukas didn’t even recognize but did make him want to kiss the dirty mouth that spoke them.

With one last push over the edge, Lukas watched in fascination as Bastian let go completely, seed spilling into his hand.

His heart clenched. He was absolute perfection. His back arched like a bow, head falling forward onto the pillows. He would’ve collapsed completely had Lukas not kept his hold on his hips.

Shifting his weight forward when Bastian's thighs stopped shaking, he found his lips and kissed him, still able to taste his high finish.

Lukas figured this was Bastian at his most relaxed and lined himself up once more behind the blond, keeping him distracted with more wet open mouthed kisses along his spine.

Honestly, he meant to take it slow, but Bastian, who he didn’t even know had turned to watch him, had urged him on.

“Please, Luki.”

Bastian was already half hard again, and Lukas lost his mind at his words.

Against all rational thought, he grabbed him roughly by his hips, fingers digging into Bastian’s skin, leaving half moons, and forced himself in.

Bastian felt so good it bordered on pain for Lukas, and he wasn't even halfway in. As he filled him up to the hilt agonizingly slow, Lukas thought the world could have been ending around them, and he wouldn't have noticed.

“Yes,” he hissed impatiently. His knuckles had gone white around the fabric. “Luki.”

Regaining some sense, he resolved to go slower anyway despite Bastian's encouragement, knowing he had to have been hurting him, but he was conflicted. Bastian had taken to whispering his name over and over again, mixed in between his 'please's and unintelligible whimpering.

He wasn't sure Bastian knew he was saying anything at all, but Lukas took it to heart anyway..

“Mine,” he growled over him. “Mine, mine, mine," he repeated every time his hips hit Bastian's firm flesh.

He fucked him deeper with each thrust because _yes_ he was Bastian’s ‘Luki’ and Bastian was _his_. Only his, and this was him branding him.

Mercilessly, he pistoned in and out of Bastian, keeping a heady rhythm. Every third thrust or so, he’d feel Bastian’s hips rut back up against him, and he thrust harder to meet him because  it was all instinct now, and fuck, Bastian’s got his hand wrapped around his own cock, mindlessly seeking reentry into the higher planes of ecstasy, and it was gorgeous.

Forever eager to help, Lukas honestly didn’t know how, but he had enough wherewithal to put his hand over Bastian's to help him reach it.

All it took was a few firm strokes and his thumb rubbing the slit of his tip for Bastian to come undone all over again.

Like art.

Only this time, Bastian’s muscles fluttered around him instead of his fingers, and he wasn’t quite ready for the intensity that hit him relentlessly in waves.

Without warning, he came inside Bastian as he shook unsteadily under him, still feeling the effects of his own climax, and they both collapsed as soon as Lukas’ thighs gave out mere moments later.

Breathlessly, he blindly reached for Bastian’s waist, pulling him onto his side and tight against him. He clumsily tucked him into his chest, kissing the back of his head and neck. They should clean themselves off, but he couldn't give less of a fuck. He felt spent and fulfilled at the same time.

Shakily trembling as he held him, he tried to recover from the rawness of the experience, staying completely still to restore his senses.

But then, Bastian made a small noise and shivered against him, and he was about to ask him what was wrong but saw that he’d fallen asleep.

Muscles aching in protest to the movements, he gathered the blankets around the both of them and settled in behind him once more, pressing butterfly kisses into his skin until he was certain Bastian could feel him wherever he'd gone to in his dreams.

With a possessiveness he didn’t realize he was capable of, he thought, now that he had him, he was never going to let go.

He squeezed him tightly, not letting him go even as he hit unconsciousness.

.

A/N: ~~You guys have no idea how hard it was to not make them just go all the way and just call it quits there. Like, end story. Honestly. I’m still questioning why I didn’t.~~ Fuck it. I went for it. Hope you guys liked it. I’m going to go change the rest of the story to fit this one scene because I thought they deserved a break (in the story as well as in real life). I mean, fuck. If Basti was massaging my thigh all day, I’d be sexually frustrated enough to start climbing poles (/pun). Honestly surprised it took Lukas this long, and I honestly cannot give less of a fuck today, guys. :D I mean, my mother called me while I was in the middle of the climax (literal and literary). Just idgaf. Everywhere. If this chapter gets deleted, yeah, don’t worry, that just means I found Jesus, and this was moved somewhere else. Yeah… And, I guess, emotionally speaking, Lukas is afraid he’d lose Bastian if he didn’t take the chance, especially when he had the advantage of knowing that Bastian at least felt something for him, and he’s just acting on that fear and insecurity. If you wanted to justify this… But who needs that.

I think I need to take a step back from this fandom. Seriously.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I thought about getting out of bed but then didn’t. But then I did, and it wasn’t a complete waste of a day. Kind of. Sorry about the lack of fluff this morning. I didn’t feel inspired. For the first part of the chapter. Ha. Mmm. I suggest listening to the Weeknd again. It’s what I listen to now when I write this because oh, my, gosh. Their lives make me so sad sometimes. This has gone through minimal editing because I didn’t feel like it. Like seriously. Fuck today. I seriously doubt Poldi’s sick. I’m going to pray for his health anyway, but I doubt he’s sick. Insert rant here.

**State of the Union**

.

Soft breaths tickled the back of his neck.

He woke up piece by piece, feeling the chest pressed against his back, solid and safe. Though the arms around his waist held him tight, he felt free. Revived or perhaps finally alive for the first time. His eyes blinked open slowly, staring ahead at the bed that he hadn’t slept in.

And all at once, it hit him.

He had woken from his slumber to find the chimera had bled into his reality.

He allowed himself a few more moments of bliss before his more responsible side resumed control.

Reluctantly dragging himself out of bed and Lukas’ arms, careful not to disturb him, he stretched his muscles, finding them slightly stiff but otherwise well rested.

Unabashedly naked, he lazily made his way to the bathroom.

Wetting a hand cloth with warm water, he did a double take as he caught sight of himself in the mirror and colored a furious red. There was no denying what happened last night was real. He touched the particularly dark mark at his hip, remembering the attention Lukas had paid to him there. He bit his lip and let out a harsh breath of air, his heart racing at the memory.

He turned the faucet to the right and splashed his face with the cold water to calm himself and returned to the bedroom.

With as much care as one would practice when attempting to hold a small creature, Bastian pressed the cloth against Lukas’ skin where there was sticky evidence of their ardent coupling, letting his eyes roam as he pleased.

There were tiny bruises on Lukas as well, though not as many that marred his own body, that he didn’t remember making but must have. He felt something close to pride, he definitely felt smug, knowing that, even subconsciously, he'd known to mark hm.

Then, he saw the red streaks of color on his arms. Those, he did remember, and he admired his handiwork.

Taking longer than necessary to do a simple task, Bastian finally left Lukas’ side again, deciding that he should shower. The team was probably leaving soon to head to the airport together.

.

Lukas woke up with his arms empty and no trace of last night, and it felt wrong.

There was panic. He felt nauseated and quickly regretful until he heard the sound of running water from the bathroom, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Bastian must have taken care of him while he slept before going to shower.

He turned over to Bastian’s side of the bed, burying his nose into Bastian’s pillow and breathed deeply. Surrounded by the earthy smell of Bastian and the memories of last night, there was the trigger of another wave of arousal.

.

Bastian dried his hair as he stepped into the room clad in a clean pair of boxers. He stopped in his tracks as the soft grunts pervaded the air, catching him off guard, though not in an unwelcome manner.

His head snapped to the source immediately, eyes tracing Lukas’ form hungrily.

He crossed the short distance to Lukas swiftly, tossing the towel to the side.

Climbing onto the bed and behind Lukas, he unapologetically pushed Lukas’ hand away, replacing the clever fingers with his own.

“What are—”

“You’re going to kill me,” Bastian accused hoarsely as he swallowed his question, sounding pained as he closed the gap between their mouths smoothly.

He gave Lukas’ ass a light slap to admonish him as he moved in protest beneath him, trying to escape but unable to as he kept him pinned to the bed and at his mercy.

Diligently, he worked him with his hand, rocking his hips back and forth as he did. With each push, Lukas spread his legs wider as if in offering, and Bastian rejoiced, rewarding him with a faster pace. There was a sense of elation that Lukas was open to him returning the favor that Lukas so lovingly and mindblowingly bestowed upon him because fuck if he didn’t want to do it until he died from exhaustion.

He curiously inched his hand back towards Lukas’ ass, imitating Lukas’ actions from before. His fingers barely brushed him there before he promptly cried out in response, falling apart as Bastian watched from above, transfixed at the sight and feel of him.

He’d _definitely_ die from exhaustion, he concluded, but he had a strong feeling he wouldn’t mind.

Teasing the supple flesh again, he gave it another fond pat as they broke apart, breathing heavily.

Chest still heaving, he found Lukas’ hand in the tangle of sheets and squeezed it.

Even tired, Lukas had the energy to squeeze it back, tossing him a grin as he turned to face him.

There was affection for him there, and Bastian was sure his face mirrored it, heart swelling in recognition.

He wanted to break the silence and brazenly declare that he was glad last night happened and that he regretted nothing, but their time alone was brought to an abrupt close with the knock on the door. The intrusions of the outside world caused them to jump off the bed.

Being the more dressed of the two, Bastian ushered Lukas off to the shower while he took care of whoever was at the door.

The persistent knock came again, and he waited a moment to compose himself before opening the door a crack to see who it was.

Manuel arched his eyebrow at him but didn’t comment as he slipped out the door and closed it in one swift motion.

Passively, Manuel stated, “Are you guys still coming with us to the airport? The bus leaves in ten minutes, but we can wait if you are.”

Toni walked by at that moment with his luggage and looked at him with oddly wide eyes, distracting him from Manuel’s question.

Seeing Bastian’s attention elsewhere, he turned back. Rolling his eyes, Manuel snapped impatiently, “Eyes up front, Kroos.”

Instantly, Toni stared straight ahead, and he walked faster towards the elevator without a word.

Bastian glanced down to where Toni was looking to see what had him so flummoxed and understood immediately. His chest was bare but covered with Lukas’ love bites.

He paled, and Manuel must have noticed his alarm because he assured him, “I’ll handle it. So, are you guys coming or not?”

Mind past comprehension of the situation, Bastian accepted Manuel as an ally and replied, “It’d look bad if we didn’t, right?”

Manuel considered his question. Shrugging, he mused, “Not bad. But, if you were trying to be discreet, not good either.”

Finding some resolve, he decided, “We’ll be down in a few.”

Manuel nodded, but before he left he allowed a smirk to make its way onto his face. “So, settle a bet. Did you seduce Poldi or did Poldi initiate?”

“Get the fuck downstairs,” he commanded before retreating back to his room, slamming the door as he went. He almost regretted it since Manuel more than likely knew and was going to help them, but he figured Manuel wasn’t that petty.

Lukas was in the shower, so he took it upon himself to pack for the both of them, throwing their things haphazardly into their bags and luggage.

When Lukas walked out of his shower, Bastian resisted the urge to take just a second to himself to appreciate the sight before they had to leave each other and threw him some clothes.

“Basti, what—”

“Get dressed. The bus is leaving soon,” he said, cutting him off. He was still gathering their things together and making sure he had everything.

Quietly, Lukas obeyed.

In the back of his mind, Bastian felt something was odd about that but didn’t press the matter. They were already late.

He handed Lukas his bags, and they silently made their way downstairs. Bastian was tense the entire elevator ride down. The energy he woke with that morning amounted to nothing as they hit the ground floor. The pressure had come back, and he wanted to grab Lukas and head back upstairs where nothing but Lukas mattered.

He swore as he felt their eyes upon them, especially Toni’s. He hoped Manuel was able to explain things properly. He'd have to ask him later what he said so that their stories matched up.

Fortunately, the team didn’t create a ruckus like they would have had they found out, but he still felt like they knew everything. The scarf he tied around his neck to cover the bruises felt like a noose.

He only remembered to move when Lukas nudged him off of the elevator. He flinched reflexively, trying to remember how they usually acted in front of others.

His mind came up with nothing. Leaving Lukas behind, he decided that it was safer to just talk to go to talk to Jogi as they loaded the bus. They invariably ended up talking about the match against Ireland, discussing areas that needed improvement and how to give the newer players more experience without affecting their chances of winning.

Even as he talked with Jogi, he was more aware than ever of Lukas in the background. He wanted more than anything to talk to him and laugh with him like the others did. _Feel_ him. Touch him in some way. There was a new ache that planted itself in his heart, taking root. It’d stay there for as long as he wasn’t beside him, he was sure. 

He and Jogi were one of the last few on the bus, making sure everything was loaded.

He sought out Lukas, wanting to sit next to Lukas. He already had ideas to abandon his plans of laying low to avert suspicion.

Coming up next to him, he was stopped by a hesitant tap on his shoulder.

“Sorry, Basti. I was sitting there.”

His eyes went to Lukas, who returned his look with a silent apology.

Part of him wanted to tell Kevin to fuck off, but he kept quiet, instead moving back to the front, continuing the conversation with Jogi.

Possessively, he turned himself in his seat so he could keep an eye on Lukas, who was apparently better at acting like nothing had happened between them than him. Every laugh that wasn’t shared with him stung. He let Jogi take control of the conversation, halfheartedly contributing when he was expected to.

Once or twice, he thought he caught Lukas’ gaze, but he couldn’t decipher the message behind them. He thought about marching up to him and asking more than once but kept himself firmly seated, gripping at the edge to physically stop himself. If Jogi noticed his turmoil, he didn’t comment.

Finally, the bus stopped at the airport, and he practically jumped out of his seat, startling Jogi who was just about to get his opinion on a new kit design.

He grabbed both his and Lukas’s stuff and waved him over eagerly when he spotted him leaving the bus with _Kevin_.

Handing him his things, he let his fingers linger against his, sharing a secret moment.

But the moment was far too short lived for Bastian’s tastes.

The fans and reporters descended on them and their team, forcing them apart.

Bastian thought the more he played along, the sooner he’d be able to get back to Lukas, but there was an endless litany of questions and requests. It lasted up until they had to board their separate planes going to their separate countries to separate teams to live their separate lives.

On the plane, he tried not to think of that division, not after what transpired mere hours ago. Before he was forced to turn off his phone, he sent Lukas a short message.

‘Call me as soon as you can? I miss you.’

.

Stopping only for a few fans and a handful of pictures, he jogged through the airport terminal. He couldn’t check his phone for Lukas’ reply with too many people around.

Shutting the door to the cab impatiently, he relaxed in the seat, finally able to check his messages.

He scrolled through the new messages, finding none from Lukas. Disappointed, he decided to instead reply to Sarah who had congratulated him on their wins. He had asked her if she was free later that day, figuring he could give her the souvenirs he bought her before he forgot.

Sarah called him back, and they planned to meet at his place for privacy and because Sarah wanted to pick up a few things she’d forgotten at his place as well.

.

“It’s great to see you, Basti,” she greeted as he opened the door a mere hour after their conversation in the cab. “I was afraid we’d never talk again, honestly.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know if you valued our friendship like I did…”

“I did,” he assured her. “There’s no hard feelings, right?”

“Of course not.”

“I got you something,” he told her, gesturing for her to sit as he handed her the gift bag.

Sarah looked at the bag in amusement. “I guess you haven’t figured out how to use wrapping paper yet?”

Bastian scoffed. “I didn’t have time to wrap. I’ve learned a few things, you know.”

She leaned back on the couch, looking around and noticing that spots that once held her items had been filled with assortments of his own personal effects. She spotted a new picture frame on the fireplace mantle, and she felt the corners of her lips quirk upward despite herself. That spot used to be where her and Bastian’s picture was, but she’d be stupid to continue fighting the inevitable.

“You look good,” he remarked awkwardly.

Though they both seemed committed to staying friends, she supposed it was still hard and she gave him an easy smile. “I should. I’m still a model after all.” She watched as some tension leave him and he returned her smile. After a moment of consideration, she told him, “You look different.”

“Different?”

“Younger,” she decided.

“Younger,” he repeated.

She tried to explain, “I don’t know. Maybe… refreshed is a better word? Relaxed, relieved, you look good though. Better.”

His phone buzzed, interrupting her search for a more appropriate description.

Bastian practically pounced on it, and she looked at him curiously. His face practically glowed with excitement, and it almost hurt for her to look at him.

She only caught a glimpse of the screen before Bastian snatched it off the table, but she was sure of what she saw, and it clicked in her mind.

She was surprised he didn’t pick it up, but she supposed he’d want to talk in private.

“So… anything you want to talk about?” She asked slyly. She tapped her fingers against the armrest of the couch and crossed her legs.

His phone buzzed again in his hand, and this time, both of their attentions went to it.

She watched as he foolishly grinned at the mysterious message and tapped out a reply before turning it off.

“Any new… developments?” He looked as if he was struggling with himself, so she added, “I can keep a secret, you know... My lips? Sealed.”

The conflict was clearly written on his face. He obviously dying to share it with someone. It was cute.

“I’ll wait,” she said.

She would outwait him.

He knew she would, too, which is why he confessed almost immediately in a gush of emotion.

The exuberance and life he exuded when he spoke would’ve been annoying if Sarah didn’t understand, if Sarah hadn’t already expected as much.

He ended with a contented sigh and inner peace that made her wish for someone who thought the world of her like Bastian did Lukas.

“I’m happy you two figured it out,” she said sincerely.

There was a pause as she waited for his mind to process her words, all the while she smiled mischievously. She enjoyed the few moments in which she was able to stun Bastian Schweinsteiger.

“You… Is this what you meant when you said I was lucky?”

She flashed a demure smile.

“How long did you…”

He faltered, but she finished for him, “Did I think my boyfriend was in love with another man? Oh, I don’t know. For about as long as I’d been in denial about it, I guess. So, it’s hard to say.”

“Is this the real reason why you broke up with me?”

“Well, this certainly wasn’t a small part of the reason why. But, I broke up with you for myself. Even if you weren’t in love with Lukas, you weren’t in love with me either. And, I deserved better than that. I deserved better than what you were giving me.”

He was speechless, and she felt bad. She didn’t mean to make him feel that way. She was just being honest. It was important for them to be honest, and she refused to take back her words.

“I know you didn’t mean to make me feel that way, Basti. It happened, but I’ve let it go. I’ve forgiven you, you know?”

“You have?”

“There wasn’t much to forgive after I was honest with myself. I shouldn’t have let it go as long as it did. I shouldn’t have let you get away with it. We were both at fault, so let’s leave it that. And, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time. Lukas must be missing you, and you must be missing him to pieces,” she said with a squeal, teasing him. “I’ll just grab what I forgot and leave, alright?”

.

Sarah almost pranced around his apartment, grabbing her small knickknacks and books as she chattered about how cute he and Lukas were as a couple. She clearly enjoyed the revelation almost as much as he did.

On her way out, she even pinched his cheek and tapped him on his nose, making him promise that they’d meet up soon as well as more often.

Once again, Bastian was left in awe. Sarah was strong, and he was lucky to have had her for as long as he did. He was lucky she wanted to still be friends. He hoped she’d find someone who appreciated her as much as he wished he could have.

Settling back on his couch, he turned his phone back on and immediately called Lukas.

“Luki?”

“Mein hase,” came a voice from the other end of the line.

Hearing his voice after longer than he ever wanted to be apart from him, Bastian wanted to curl up into himself, not knowing how to deal with the extra energy and excitement that he felt.

“I miss you. Can we skype?”

“It depends. Is this skyping? Or _skyping_?”

Bastian felt himself go red. “Fuck off, Luki.”

“That honeymoon period didn’t last long, did it?”

“I just wanted to see you when we talked!” He insisted.

“I know. I was teasing, Basti. Sign on, I’ve already been waiting.”

.

The next morning, Lukas and Bastian texted during practice, but it was different. Though there was no noteworthy change in _how_ they talked or _what_ they said, there was an added level of wonder and affection between them.

Wenger’s usual lack of attention didn’t even dampen his high spirits.

That evening, he turned on his television in his new, temporary apartment. He flipped through a few channels before he heard Bastian’s name mentioned on one of them. He turned back to it and was assaulted with pictures and reports of Sarah at Bastian’s apartment.

The couple was apparently back together.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m tired. I need schweinski to be real and to cheer me up. (read: If I'm tortured, I will bring you down with me)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For real though, can we just agree that Lukas is Basti’s one and only wag?… Also, yeah, little plot development in terms of action right now, but it’ll pick up. Just enjoy the smuff (slightly smutty fluff? Not really smut though... Really).

**State of the Union**

.

Lukas would be lying if he said that he didn’t immediately assume the worst.

The hand that gripped the remote tightened its hold and did little else, unwilling to cooperate and switch to another channel and spare himself the rest of the coverage.

Thus, he ended up sitting in morbid fascination throughout the entire broadcast, watching the pictures of Sarah happily leaving Bastian’s apartment with a present he was sure Bastian bought while with _him_.

And, despite its unwelcome existence, the report helped Lukas better understand the unsettled emotions he had felt since he and Bastian left the hotel. It made him realize that the two had never stated anything that might indicate to Lukas that it wasn’t just a one off—or rather, twice off—thing for Bastian. And, _this_ provided damning evidence towards a harsher reality for Lukas.

Perhaps Bastian had acted so unperturbed afterwards when they went downstairs because he didn’t think anything had changed between them.

His phone chose that moment to vibrate with notification of a new message. It was a reply from Bastian in continuation of a conversation he no longer had any interest in. Not when there were so many other things he wanted to know, ask, and demand.

Frowning slightly, he remembered that he had been talking to Bastian practically the entire day yesterday, and he never once mentioned seeing Sarah.

Then he realized he’d only been talking to Bastian for only _most_ of the day. There was that delay after he’d called him when he finally got back to his apartment and was made to wait. Bastian didn’t make an excuse when he rejected his call, merely asking him to wait, and at the time, he blindly obeyed. Now, he had the answer to a question he never thought he had to ask.

More startlingly, he realized that Bastian had chosen to talk to Sarah instead of him.

They must have shared a good laugh at his foolishness.

Breathing deeply, he shakily told himself to stop thinking with such negativity, but he still struggled to rationalize the situation.

It was probably nothing, he tried to convince himself.

Bastian had told him he and Sarah were trying to remain friends ever since their breakup. And, he had to give Sarah her gift eventually after all. Lukas supposed Bastian just couldn’t wait a fucking day to do it, but it didn’t mean anything. And, talking to her apparently took precedence over talking to him, but that probably didn’t mean anything either.

_It didn’t mean anything._

Lukas threw his remote down in anger and picked up his phone, ready to write a scathing and hateful message to Bastian.

Midway through yet another insult involving Bastian’s peroxide bleach blond hair from years before, Lukas erased the already lengthy message in shame.

What he really wanted to do was talk to Bastian. He wanted Bastian to make it all better like he always did for Lukas. He needed Bastian to not be the person who made him feel this way because he wasn’t sure whom to turn to now.

He let his phone slide down onto the couch. He didn’t know how he was supposed to even begin to ask Bastian to explain. He didn’t know if he was allowed to ask.

As the night went on, he hadn’t been able to work up the courage to do more than lie to Bastian and pretend that he wasn’t feeling betrayed or angry.

.

Santi was the first to notice. It was after practice, and he was coming from the showers as Lukas was heading in.

Pointing at him with some kind of admiration, Santi half laughed, half exclaimed, “Shit, Poldi! What happened to you?”

Lukas tried to walk away and pretend he didn’t hear him, but Santi came over to him and held him by his shoulder to get a closer look. By then, they had caught the attention a few others.

Standing there uncomfortably exposed, Lukas knew they would inevitably all come to the same conclusion.

Shrugging him off more rudely than he might on any other day, Lukas escaped to the showers. There was little chance that they wouldn’t be there still when he came out—the curiosity would be too much, the opportunity to tease too tempting. So, he took his time.

Under the rush of water, he cursed his luck. He hadn’t been careful like he was the day before because he was still feeling off kilter, enough to forget that the physical memories of their night and subsequent morning were still visible on his skin.

As expected, when he stepped out from the showers, he had an audience. Santi had gathered Kieran and a few other busybodies around his locker.

While they not so subtly stared at him, Lukas regretted his lack of foresight in bringing a towel to cover his chest as well and weighed his options. They weren’t even all dressed, which meant they were _very_ eager and committed to finding out what happened. And, they probably weren’t going to leave any time soon before they got what they wanted.

There _had_ to have been better things to do than pry into his life, but it seemed they just lived to bust his ass.

Adjusting his towel, he kept his face to them and soberly stated, “One question.”

Both figuratively and literally, they jumped at the chance, talking over each other and vying for Lukas’ attention.

Less than patiently, he waited for them to settle on just _one_.

However, from the side, an unexpected voice called out, “What’d you do to your back, Poldi?”

Per had come from the shower as well. Though he’d seen his rowdy teammates, his attention was apparently focused elsewhere.

Caught off guard, Lukas turned towards the source of the voice, leaving his back temporarily exposed. Immediately, he realized his mistake and spun back to face them again, but the damage was done.

Catcalls erupted from the small crowd.

“Damn, Poldi, you lucky bastard.”

“So you’re back together with Monika?”

“Is it someone new?”

“No way, it’s gotta be Monika!”

“It has to be, right?”

“Never thought she’d be one of those.”

“Shit, man. Well done.”

He shot them all contemptuous looks in return, his mood darkening at an exponential rate, reminded of things he already was uncertain about, and they were somewhat stunned into speechlessness by the rare display of scorn coming from him. Seizing his opportunity, Lukas grabbed his stuff to change somewhere else.

Only, Per didn’t let it go so easily.

“Come on, Poldi. What’s going on?” He asked, following him and leaving their other teammates behind.

“It’s nothing, alright?”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“My dog did it.”

“A dog did _this_ ,” he said skeptically, lightly tracing one red line across his shoulder.

Shoving his hand away, Lukas stubbornly stated, “Yes.”

“What are you trying to hide, Poldi?” He asked in a whisper.

Lukas was on the verge of snapping when Mesut chose that moment to intercept the two of them, dragging Per away without explanation and letting Lukas dress in peace.

When Mesut’s eyes met his, he gave him a nod in acknowledgement and thanks.

Lukas knew Per meant well, but he had less than zero desire to talk about _exactly_ what he was trying to hide and figure out.

Changing in record time, he left the stadium without another word.

.

Mesut had been watching them all since Santi first pointed out Lukas’ unusual scratches and bruises. They looked like nothing one would get in a fight, far from it.

And, he was sure he hadn’t seen Lukas with them before the match against Ireland. Mesut reasoned that somewhere in between _after_ the match against Ireland and _before_ today’s practice, Lukas was with _someone_ he didn’t want them to know about.

The thing was, Mesut knew that Monika didn’t meet them in Germany. And, surely the reporters would have caught something if they happened to see Monika at Lukas’ apartment or vice versa when they came back, but there were no such reports in the tabloids or news. So, he ruled her out as the culprit.

But, it didn’t matter where she was because he already had suspicions as to whom it could be.

In the hotel lobby before they left for the airport, he had happened to catch the most important bits of Manuel and Toni’s hushed conversation. Toni had admitted that he saw Bastian with his chest covered with shockingly suggestive bruises, but Manuel was more than quick to explain it away. It seemed that Sarah had apparently come by looking to rekindle their relationship, and Bastian asked that they keep it quiet until the couple could figure things out for themselves.

When Toni had rightly asked where Lukas had gone since they were sharing a room, Mesut saw Manuel hesitate and swiftly moved in to join their conversation, exclaiming in satisfaction that that explained why Lukas had said he was ‘sexiled’ and asked to stay in his room. He lied and elaborated that Lukas must have not wanted to betray his Bastian’s trust and hadn’t given him much more information than that. His interference earned him a quirked eyebrow from Manuel but no further discussion.

Fortunately, Toni seemed to have bought their impromptu story, more relieved than anything to be handed a lie than to be forced to accept the truth, and Mesut didn’t blame him. The truth brought up so many more questions that he most likely wouldn’t get an answer to for a long time.

There was something between Lukas and Bastian; that much he was certain. Hell, he’d stood between the two during the starting lineups too often to _not_ notice.

But, on top of that, there were the reports of Sarah and Bastian getting back together. Usually, he wouldn’t pay any heed to rumors, but it would explain Lukas’ noticeable listlessness.

He honestly had no idea what to think, but he wished them luck.

.

There were no secrets between Bastian’s teammates, it seemed. And if there were, they didn’t stay secret for long before the entire team, including their managers and trainers, knew.

So, on Bastian’s first day back, he had been quickly found out despite his commendable attempts to be discreet. Unexpectedly, his secret had been compromised by Sebastian, who innocently and loudly asked him how he got those ‘weird bruises on his back’ during their stretching exercises.

He immediately pulled his shirt down to cover up the sliver of exposed skin, but the people near them were quicker than that, attention focusing instantly and sharply on him, latching onto the peculiar exclamation and his actions. The rest didn’t need evidence or much of anything to start guessing and fabricating wild stories as to how it came to be, just happy that they had something with which to entertain themselves.

It was terrible of him, but he was suddenly immensely grateful for Toni’s transfer. It made it easier to sidestep the unsubstantiated speculations and questions.

And, Manuel’s help had apparently stopped after its initial brief appearance when Toni saw him. He had taken to sending him sly looks throughout the rest of the warmup and practice, inciting the others as best he could. However, Bastian was just grateful he refrained from mentioning the hotel incident.

So, for the next couple of days, Bastian was out on the pitch before the others even arrived in an attempt to prevent them from cornering him in the lockers and to generally avoid their fussing at all costs.

Of course, there were those who were certain it was Sarah for whatever reason as well, but he especially avoided the teammates who had, jokingly or not, picked Lukas as the most likely culprit.

For the most part, that meant he only could only talk to Philipp, who was more interested in how the national team was doing without him than the origin of his mysterious bruises. Though, Bastian could see there was a curiosity in Philipp’s eyes, too. He wanted to know as well, and Bastian appreciated that he kept it to himself, remembering the undisclosed bet that Thomas mentioned Philipp had with Manuel.

Half the time, Bastian honestly felt like telling them the truth and wondered what stopped him. It would be easier, and he wouldn’t have to feel like he was hiding something dirty when in actuality, it was probably the best thing that ever happened to him. What they shared made him feel like he could achieve the improbable. _Lukas_ made him want to attempt the impossible. He reminded himself of all of that as well as the fact that he had felt this way even before they acted on their reciprocated attraction.

However, Lukas had been oddly standoffish the past couple of days. There was nothing noticeably different in the way he had been talking to him, but Bastian felt there was something wrong anyway.

And, he couldn’t help but let the idea eat at him until he couldn’t take it anymore and caved.

Friday after practice when he should have been celebrating their current first place position in the _Bundesliga_ , he decided to call Sarah, the only person he could really talk to about these troubles aside from Lukas himself.

“Sorry, Basti,” she sincerely apologized after he told her everything. “I don’t really know what to think with just your side. I’d need to talk to Lukas to get the entire picture.”

He figured she’d say something along those lines but that didn’t deter him from asking in desperation, “What should I do then, Sar?”

“Talk to him?”

“I can’t!”

“Well, why not?”

There was a hint of petulance in his voice now. “Because I don’t know what to tell him.”

“Why don’t you start with everything you just told me?”

Carrying on as if she hadn’t said anything, he began to speculate, “Maybe I did something wrong and made him mad? Maybe we moved too fast, and he regrets it. Maybe he’s trying to tell me he doesn’t like me like that.”

“Basti…,” she said slowly into her phone.

“Maybe he thinks we waited too long? What if I did something wrong?!”

Fondly, Sarah tried to calm him, suggesting a plausible explanation for Lukas’ behavior. “Have you ever considered that Lukas might just be stressed, and he doesn’t want to worry you, so he never said anything?”

In a voice that was louder than what Sarah considered necessary, Bastian exclaimed, “Luki’s stressed?! Why? How? What have you heard?”

She knew Bastian couldn’t see it, but Sarah rolled her eyes at him anyway. He was acting like a little kid, and if it weren’t so damn endearing to know that he had this childish and insecure side to him, she’d have hung up long ago. Clearly, when it came to Lukas, Bastian wasn’t open to reason or logic, but again, she tried, “Calm down, Basti. It’s just a guess. But what else do you think it could be? Have _you_ heard anything from his friends?”

“I hate phones. I’m sick of not talking to people in person,” he lamented grumpily, saying it more because of his inability to talk to Lukas in person than anything else. He let his head hit the cool kitchen counter. “Can you come over?”

There was silence from the other end, and Bastian thought he’d overstepped the bounds of their current relationship, but that couldn’t have been it. She said so herself that she wanted to remain friends.

“Sar?”

“Sorry, Basti. Uh, just a little shocked. Don’t you think me meeting you _anywhere_ is a bad idea right now?”

“What do you mean?”

Adding another pause to their conversation, Sarah slowly formulated the best way to approach the subject and eventually asked, “… Basti, when was the last time you watched something other than Project Runway?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, have you seen the news? Or picked up a newspaper recently? Have you even walked past a newsstand or a rack of magazines?”

“Uh…”

She abruptly cut him off, already coming to her own conclusions. “Oh, God. You don’t know, do you?”

Alarmed but not knowing why, he probed, “Know what?”

“I thought you were just being blasé about it as usual, but—I can’t believe you don’t know. It’s even worse than usual.”

“ _Sar_. Know what?”

“Sorry, sorry. Just. It just all makes sense now, you know?”

“ _Sarah_ ,” he prompted.

She took a deep breath to prepare herself before explaining, “Alright, basically, _some people_ think we’re back together because they saw me leaving your apartment.”

“What? That’s stupid.”

“No kidding. Now, onto the more important question. Did you ever tell Lukas that we saw each other when you got back?”

There was nervousness in her voice, but Bastian didn’t catch on to its meaning, still trying to comprehend why the press had to always make these claims about him.

“Basti?”

“Sorry, uh, no? I don’t think so. It didn’t come up.”

“You _idiot_ ,” she stated.

“What did _I_ do? How am I an idiot?”

“ _He_ probably did hear about the rumors, and this is why he’s so put out with you. Or something, I can’t know for sure. I don’t think he’s mad at least from what you’ve said. But, who knows? He’s always been good at hiding that kind of stuff.”

Bastian’s jaw dropped, and his phone slipped in his hand before he caught it and himself from falling. He was ready to just say goodbye and lie down in his bed for the next week to process Sarah’s words along with everything else.

“Why would _that_ matter in the first place?!”

“Men,” she muttered under her breath. Clicking her tongue, she sighed, “Poor Lukas… having such an insensitive boyfriend like you.”

Coloring slightly at her label for them, he stammered, “What? We’re not… kind of. Why—what are you—”

“Really, _poor Lukas_ ,” she repeated. “How would it _not_ matter?”

“There’s always rumors about me, about us,” he said defensively. “It’s not like this is the first time either.”

“There are _pictures_ this time, Basti.”

“So, what?”

“God, I really spoiled you, you know? I should’ve trained you on how to be a proper boyfriend from the start. I really need to apologize to Lukas… but you need to apologize to him first.”

“Why me? I’m not the one who made up the rumors.”

“You’re going to apologize because it’s the right thing to do since you didn’t tell him about seeing me earlier, and he had to find out from the tabloids. He’s probably been sulking and feeling bad about it this entire week. _And_ , you’re going to explain everything to him.”

“What if you’re wrong, and there’s really nothing wrong?”

“Then, no harm, no foul. Now, goodbye, Basti.” And, in a sweeter tone, she added, “Hope it works out. Talk to you soon.”

Bastian was left alone with his thoughts, and that was never a good thing.

Feeling the panic creep up on him, Bastian dialed Lukas. As soon as he heard Lukas pick up, he blurted, “Sarah and I aren’t together!” He wanted to bang his head against a goal post for his lack of smooth delivery, but it got the job done at least.

“Uh-huh…,” came the reply.

Through stilted words, he elaborated, “I just wanted to let you know in case you heard something else…”

“Uh-huh. Thanks for clearing that up then.”

“Did it really clear things up? Because Sarah told me to tell you, but I thought—”

Lukas’ voice cut through his rambling. “Sarah told you to tell me? So, you’ve talked to her recently?”

There was a foreboding change in his tone that belied the seemingly innocent questions, and Bastian knew he was heading for trouble, but he felt like he wasn’t in a position that afforded any safe escape routes. He was in a minefield, and anywhere he stepped could blow off his leg.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I just finished talking to her. She told me to call you.”

“So, you wouldn’t have called me if she hadn’t _told_ you to?”

 _Ouch_ , he flinched. He was fond of that leg. He did such good things with it.

Lukas continued, “I don’t get why you just tell me in the first place. Why did _Sarah_ have to tell you to? Omission is the same as lying to me, Basti. It feels the same as lying to me…”

Bastian’s heart sunk, and he began to pace, unable to sit still. He could hear the emotion in Lukas’ voice now, the hurt that Lukas had probably tried to hide in his messages. “I didn’t even know they caught us—”

“ _Caught_ you?”

He flinched again. And there went his other leg.

He was messing things up horribly, and he wished Sarah could walk him through this because he obviously had no idea what he was doing. But, he had a feeling Lukas wouldn’t like Sarah taking any more part in this conversation than she already had. “That’s not what I meant. I just didn’t think they’d care enough to keep stalking me. And then I didn’t know about it until I talked to Sarah, and she told me about the stories.... I’m sorry, Luki…”

.

Summoning up his resolve, Lukas finally asked, “Why did you have to see her that day, Basti?”

He knew he was being unreasonable, but at least he kept himself from saying what he really wanted to say, like, _why did you_ have _to see her so soon after we spent the night together?_

He could hear the unease in Bastian’s voice as he answered, “I had to give her the souvenirs we bought her in Poland.”

Lukas wanted to correct him and say that he was only present while Bastian bought it. _He_ certainly didn’t buy anything for her. But, he kept his tongue in check. However, that didn’t stop him from pettily remarking, “I called you while you two were talking, right? It shouldn’t have taken that long to just give them to her.”

.

“We talked after,” Bastian said.

He had gone to his bedroom to lie down and wrapped himself up in his blanket, pretending that he wasn’t screwing things up, and Lukas wasn’t mad at him for something so stupid and out of his hands. He wished it were Lukas that was holding him. He wished they’d never left the hotel room.

“About what?”

Bastian pulled the blanket closer around him. He feared his answer would result in his head coming off, but Lukas wanted the truth and deserved it. “We talked about _us_. I told her about us. I know I shouldn’t have, but she promised not to tell anyone else. I’m sorry, Luki,” he repeated. He couldn’t stress enough how sorry he was. “I’m sorry.”

With the current lull in conversation, Bastian was almost halfway out the door, ready to get to London however he could when Lukas surprised him with yet another question.

“… And what did you tell her about us?”

He didn’t sound mad or _disappointed_ this time, and Bastian felt safe enough to lie back down. More out of embarrassment than anything else now, he curled himself into a ball under the thick blanket. Tentatively, he replied with his own question, “Why do you want to know?”

“Just tell me, Basti.”

He could feel his ears redden. He really didn’t want to have to tell him. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Basti,” Lukas said beseechingly. “Please.”

“I don’t want to,” he repeated. He bit his lip.

“Why not, Basti?”

“Because you’ll call me an idiot, too.”

Without missing a beat, Lukas told him, “I have an entire list of reasons why I can and should call you an idiot. You’d be lucky if this broke the top ten.”

Completely hiding under the blanket now as if Lukas could see him, he responded in a jumbled rush. “ButSarahsaidIwasactinglikealovesickidiotnandmushysoIdon’twanttotellyouatallbecauseit’sembarrassingandIdon’twantyoutothinkI’membarrassing. I’m sorry.”

It was just his luck that Lukas was able to perfectly understand him anyway and honed in on one word that apparently caught his attention.

Carefully, Lukas asked, “Is that what you are though?”

“Am I what?”

It was Lukas’ turn to mumble now. “A lovesick idiot.”

Repeating from confusion than lack of hearing, Bastian asked, “What?”

Lukas cleared his throat and clarified, “In _love_?”

Hiding his face in his pillow, his words came out muffled but still audible. “You know the answer, Luki. Please don’t make me say it.”

“But, I don’t know…,” he sounded almost as uncomfortable as Bastian. Stumbling over his words, he continued uncertainly, “We never talked about it after… _after_. What am I supposed to think? Especially after seeing Sarah…after seeing Sarah coming from your apartment and everything else. I really don’t know, Basti.”

Bastian was again conflicted. He wasn’t sure if he’d scare Lukas off, and this brought him to higher planes of embarrassment he hadn’t known existed, but he didn’t want to lie and not tell him either, especially after discovering that Lukas doubted his feelings for him.

Coming to a decision, he told him, “Get on Skype.”

“What? No. Why?”

“Just get on.”

“Tell me why.”

“Just get on,” he urged.

Scrambling out of his protective cocoon, he grabbed his laptop from his desk and flipped it open, signing on immediately.

Lying on top of his blankets this time, he spotted Lukas’ icon despite his protests and requested to videochat.

Lukas’ face popped up on his screen, and though confused and perhaps a little sad, Bastian’s heart fluttered. It’d been so long since he’d seen him. The previous days, though he missed him and sorely wanted to see him, he hadn’t dared to ask to videochat with him because he didn’t feel confident enough.

“I love you,” he said without preamble.

Bastian saw Lukas’ mouth gape before he was met with a black screen. Lukas had disconnected the call, and Bastian was taken aback by the response. He wondered what Lukas expected when he basically told him that he wanted him to tell him how he felt about him.

He briefly entertained the idea that he had misread the fifty foot signs Lukas established and breathed a small sigh of relief upon seeing a videochat request from Lukas.

Now more amused by Lukas’ antics than anything else, Bastian clicked accept without hesitation.

Immediately, Lukas offered his apologies, “I’m so sorry, Basti. You just… surprised me. Thank you for telling me. It… helps.”

He was sure he was blushing again but managed to reply anyway. “I just wanted you to hear it now instead of later. I mean, you’re right. If Manu didn’t interrupt—After we—I just thought… we didn’t have to after—”

“You don’t have to explain!” Lukas stopped him abruptly, visibly flushed. “It’s fine... Really. I’m glad you decided to tell me.”

Lukas’ own difficulties with the entire thing made Bastian feel more at ease because it meant they both had no idea what to do, but at least they were figuring things out together.

Then, a thought occurred to him. Almost dreading the answer but knowing he had to find out, he bravely ventured, “What about you, Luki? Do you love me…? Or…”

Lukas’ hand conspicuously hovered out of the shot, but Bastian could tell it was over his laptop screen, more than likely ready to close it.

Bastian’s face fell, and he could almost hear the fissures in his heart forming. And, as if he weren’t already experiencing emotional whiplash, Lukas put his hand down and imperceptibly nodded in shy confirmation.

“I think so,” he began. And, really, Lukas could have stopped there, and Bastian would have been fine, just so relieved he wasn’t completely wrong about them. But, Lukas added, “I care about you, Basti. I really, _really, really_ care about you. So…”

Practically giddy, Bastian’s face broke out into a grin, and he teased, “So, say it. If you _really, really, really_ care about me.”

“Do I have to?”

“I did it.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m actually a _lovesick_ idiot if you must know.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s not what you were hinting at before.”

“I hate you.”

“But, I love you.”

“Shut up!”

“Aww. You’re shy?”

“No.”

“Then, say it.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

“I hate you so fucking much.”

“Liar.”

“Fine, now you’ll never know.”

“Aww, Luki. Don’t be that way.”

“Shut up.”

“Why don’t you make me? Hey!” He exclaimed suddenly in excitement. “Does this mean we’re exclusive?”

For the second time that night, Bastian was met with another black screen. It could have been worse. And, it was endearing, really.

He waited patiently for Lukas to request another videochat when he was ready, but instead he felt his phone vibrate from somewhere among the folds of the blankets and sheets. Feeling for it blindly, he found it under his pillow along with a message from Lukas.

_-Just watch yourself, Basti. I better not hear any more reports about you with anyone else. Got it?_

Grinning from ear to ear, he went under his blanket again and typed out a response.

‘You’re cute when you’re jealous.’

Then, Bastian attached a quick picture of him winking before sending it. Eagerly, he waited for a reply and was not disappointed when, moments later, his phone buzzed with a notification of a new message.

_-Fuck off._

‘I’d love to.’

_-Not what I meant._

‘But it could be. Get back on Skype, and I’ll show you?’

Frankly, he was a little turned on.

And, while waiting for the next response, he mused to himself, thinking that he’d miss it when the marks that claimed him as Lukas’ would completely fade.

Unfortunately for him, moments later, Lukas turned his suggestion down.

_-No thanks. Nice try, though._

Laying on his stomach with his chin resting on his pillow, he pouted at the rejection and replied, ‘It’s not nice to tease.’

It was a few minutes before Bastian received another message from Lukas.

Checking his phone, he saw that it was actually a picture message and opened it curiously.

Almost immediately, he slammed down his phone, heart racing. He quickly calculated the days until the next international break and wondered if there were any other holidays he had before that.

Exhaling deeply, he saved the picture to his phone and debated if Lukas would mind if he saved it as the background picture for his everything. Deciding that it probably wasn’t a good idea to ask, he called Lukas instead of replying with another text message. It was too slow for what he had in mind now.

“It’s not nice to tease,” he said, turning onto his back.

Flippantly, Lukas replied, “It’s only teasing if I’m not going to do something about it.”

Hand already down his boxers, Bastian demanded, “Get on Skype now.”

Bastian used to merely tolerate technology and found it occasionally useful, but now he thanked God it existed and had progressed so far.

Instead of a willing reply, Lukas laughed at him and pointed out, “Not much of a romantic, are you?”

But, Bastian didn’t really mind Lukas’ laughter, even when it was mockingly directed at him. He loved that Lukas’ laugh was so deep. He loved his voice in general. He always had, but it was only recently that he’d allowed himself to enjoy it to its fullest extent.

Turning the conversation back on Lukas as he gave himself a light stroke, Bastian closed his eyes in remembrance of the picture he’d just sent and retorted, “I’m not the one who sent a naughty picture of myself, just saying.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I’m not the one with his hand down his pants.”

Not stopping but surprised that Lukas knew, Bastian asked, “How’d you know?”

Laughing mischievously, he explained in a slightly smug tone, “Your voice.”

“ _My_ voice?”

“You get this little hitch in your voice when you get _excited_ ,” he told him casually, his own voice getting huskier. “So… Hand. Out.”

“Why?”

“I’m not a damn phone sex operator.”

“But you’d do so well.”

“Hand out, Basti.”

“Fine,” he whined. He’d just have to wait until later, he concluded.

After that, they talked about various unsexy topics for the rest of the night, pausing in the middle as they both made dinner, but they kept each other on the line as they did. It seemed pointless and frivolous when they could hardly talk even on speakerphone if they didn’t want to burn down their places, but Bastian felt better knowing that he was linked to Lukas in at least some way.

It wasn’t that much later after they bade each other good night and good luck on their upcoming matches when Bastian received a notification of a new message on his phone. It was from Lukas and simply said, _Just a reminder that you’re off limits and to keep your hands to yourself_.

Following that was another picture that caused him to drop his phone onto his face. He let it lay there as he recovered from the shock and sudden onset of arousal. It wasn’t as if he needed the reminder, but he more than appreciated Lukas’ generosity and consideration anyway.

Bastian slipped his hand into his boxers for the second time that day, and he had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time. Not if Lukas kept this up.

Not that he wanted him to stop.

.

A/N: Surprise. They eventually stumble their way through a mature conversation because they’re grown adults, damn it. This chapter saves me, you, and them about three chapters of angst. You’re welcome. ~~Must. Resist. The Urge. To write skype sex because I can and because they’re asking for it~~. It was a compromise. Ugh. Really, guys. My life is such a struggle right now. If you guys want me to stop, just holler. With the borderline smut I mean. I don’t think I can quit schweinski…

Also, oh my gosh, guys haha. I kept clicking the wrong tab, so when I went to continue writing the chapter, I kept rereading the line above where I was writing, and was like, _depressed, extra fluid, and pedal edema, what_??? The fluid thing wasn’t what tripped me so much (since I could’ve been writing smut and forgot, who knows) but that edema. Like… what did I just force upon them.

Double also. **I love you guys. <3 Thank you for being so nice and kind and supportive and thanks for still reading this and all the other ish I put out. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Read at your own caution. This has not been edited, and I have been known to make minor and major updates after I publish them just on a whim. 
> 
> I made myself sad by reading a terrible article on Poldi, and so now this happened. Why can’t people realize that Lukas Podolski is precious and appreciate him?? I know he’s not perfect (though, I will say he’s pretty damn close, and as a mathemagician, approaching perfect pretty much means he is, so there), but goodness gracious, can you not pick him apart just because you can? You can literally make any player sound bad with minimal effort, so stop it and get off his dick (I mean, I understand the desire and all, but no).
> 
> And now, I’m laughing because of what I just said and what you’re about to read. Trust me, there’s a plot. You can find it a lot further down the chapter, but it’s there.
> 
> Just casually writing and editing smut in my living room with a straight face.

**State of the Union**

.

He had gone back to counting down the weeks, days, hours, minutes, and seconds until he’d get to see Lukas again.

There was no denying that he was excited. It’d gotten to the point where his teammates at Bayern would just roll their eyes at him every time he reminded them that break was coming soon. Along with the eye rolling, the teasing and catcalling returned full force. Xabi didn’t quite understand why they were poking fun at Bastian, but he was new. And more significantly, the loud whispers had speculated that he had his own Lukas of sorts back in Liverpool.

Nevertheless, Bastian dealt with their mockery by insisting he was acting so elatedly because they were going to be receiving the Silver Laurel Leaf. He also stuck to Philipp for the most part, discussing his duties as captain of the national team, how he’d been adjusting, and potential plans for the team.

The few times he talked to Sarah—all of which he had informed Lukas of beforehand—, she had urged him play it cool, warning him that he wasn’t doing a very good job of being discreet and adding that Lukas probably didn’t want a clingy boyfriend. Sarah was only joking, but there was little anyone could do to dampen his enthusiasm anyway.

His face was going to be stuck in a permanent smile with the way things were going for him.

In a few days’ time, he was going to finally be able to see Lukas in person for the first time since they defined their relationship. There was so much he wanted to tell him.

Most importantly, he wanted to celebrate with Lukas. It wasn’t just the Silver Laurel Leaf that they had to be happy about.

Bayern had _won_ their group with two games remaining. It was a _record_.

Granted, Lukas’ situation at Arsenal had been hard on the both of them—Bastian hurt for Lukas—, so perhaps the subject would be a little bit touchy as Sarah had suggested, but hopefully the special surprise he had planned for him when they met up in Berlin for the premiere would keep his mind off it.

Lukas loved surprises. That was one of the very first things Bastian learned about him. And, as predicted, he focused on trying to get Bastian to confess rather than anything else that could bring them down. But, despite the promised incentives and the veiled threats, he was planning to keep this a surprise.

That ought to show Lukas that he could be romantic when he wanted.

.

Bastian’s luck turn a took when Lukas messaged him. He wouldn’t be arriving a night early like they had planned. Per insisted that he and Mesut arrive for the awards ceremony together. He even went so far as to remind them that it would be one of the last times they traveled together to an event as part of the _Germany_ _national_ team. At that point, Lukas and Mesut really had no choice.

Less than graciously, Bastian conceded that it was probably good that they had took advantage of the time they had. Per was a good friend of Bastian’s as well and Lukas’ teammate at Arsenal. He was _not_ to be harmed in any way. He reminded himself of these facts and more as he repacked the preparations and decided to spend some time with the few teammates who had also arrived early, which were pretty much all of the ones from Bayern. They, too, had travelled together, but Bastian had a feeling Thomas just liked a captive audience for when he rambled on about something or other.

However, he almost wished he hadn’t decided to join them for dinner when Thomas correctly guessed that he had changed his mind about eating with them because Lukas wasn’t available. It soured his mood considerably.

And, while Bastian didn’t respond to Thomas directly and ignored him for the rest of the night, Thomas did get his comeuppance. Somehow, he’d managed to trip over _himself_ when they left the restaurant. Bastian, of course, hadn’t seen a thing even though he was standing right behind him.

Eventually, a few more of their teammates had arrived, and the plan was to educate the younger members of their family on how the national team partied—Thomas’ words, not his, and Bastian called it a night.

Falling into his empty bed, Bastian was at the very least grateful that Philipp was there to babysit the others while he resigned himself to a lonely night. Not exactly how he pictured his night.

.

In his dreams, he was a professional skier, he was a football, he was a marksman, he was a pilot, he was flying, he was with Lukas. Longingly, he clenched his fists and pressed his face into the comforting pillow that seemed to burn like a furnace. Everywhere else seemed cold, and he hated it.

That was when Bastian realized it was unusually freezing in his room. He usually kept the temperature in the high seventies or well into the eighties if he could. It would always drive Lukas crazy whenever they shared rooms, forcing him to sleep in his underwear. Or, that was his explanation for it anyway.

He clung to the pillow, curling against it like it was his only salvation.

But, then the pillow was gone, and he blindly reached out for it, shivering. Toeing the line between consciousness and sleep, Bastian tried to sit up, but the pillow returned.

He felt a light weight over him, but he resolutely held onto his pillow.

He missed Lukas to the point of pain. And, in his sleep addled mind, every breath he took was filled with Lukas, and he breathed deeply, reveling in the fantasy.

.

“Get up, mein hase. We’re going to be late.”

Tiredly, he grumbled, “Shh, that’s crazy talk. You’re a pillow. Where do you have to be?” He pat the pillow he was using and turned onto his side.

“What the hell? Have you been drinking again?”

“Just a beer at dinner, but I don’t— _Luki_?”

At once, Bastian sat up, staring speechlessly at Lukas. He was surprised to see the subject of his many fantasies and desires in front of him. But, he was more surprised to see how good Lukas dressed in a dark suit. No, he _knew_ Lukas looked good no matter what. He was just taken aback, experiencing the full visual assault without warning or preparation.

“Are you okay, Basti?”

Bastian shut his mouth. “Yes. What’re you doing here?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Remember what?”

He crossed his arms, arching his eyebrow at Bastian in amusement. “We had an entire conversation last night. I told you that Mesut got Per to book an earlier flight, and we ended up having to leaving at some godforsaken hour because there weren’t many early flights that had three seats free.”

“Why would Mesut want to come early for?”

“I don’t know,” Lukas shrugged. “But, it was lucky for us, right?”

Blinking, Bastian nodded mutely at him. He still couldn’t quite believe Lukas was there. He couldn’t believe that it wasn’t a dream. He pinched the side of his leg to make sure.

“Come on. I already gave you an extra ten minutes. Shower, and I’ll get your suit ready for you.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, throwing off the blankets and covers. That, too, made a lot more sense now. But, as he got out of bed, he noticed he was missing a few things, namely all of his clothes. “Did you…?”

“Don’t look at me,” Lukas said, grinning mischievously. “You did that yourself.”

“I… how? Why?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Blushing, he walked quickly past him, trying to cover up his unmentionable bits despite Lukas being more than familiar with them. “No.”

“Are you sure? It’s pretty funny. You got game, Schweini. Even when you’re sleep talking, apparently. I was _this_ close to giving in, but then you called me a penguin, asked me where my snowmen friends were, and called Santa an asshole for letting the cold in. So, I got you some blankets instead. And then you—”

Bastian shut the bathroom door, blocking out more embarrassing revelations.

He showered quickly, but when he came back out, his suit was laid out on his bed but no Lukas. Alongside it, there was a note in Lukas’ neat scrawl.

_Sorry, mein hase. Per called. He wanted to take some pictures with everyone before we left for the ceremony. He called you, too, but I let it ring. We’re in the lobby. Find me._

_-Luki_

Bastian stuffed the note in his suitcase.

Then, he took his time to get ready. Dressing with deliberate precision and making sure he looked worthy of being Lukas’ boyfriend. Never mind the fact that no one knew.

.

Downstairs, Lukas said to find him, and that was easy enough. But, so many people wanted his time as well, and Bastian found it hard to edge his way in and extract Lukas from the conversations he invariable became trapped in.

As a result, he ended up taking his own photos and pictures for others, documenting the momentous occasion like he should’ve planned to in the first place.

On the drive over to the Bellevue Palace, Bastian didn’t even get the chance to sit next to him—who the fuck invited Kevin, anyway—, looking minimally put out in the subsequent pictures. He caught Lukas’ eye a few times, and it perked him up, knowing that Lukas wasn't doing this on purpose and that he also wanted to sit with him—seriously, who the fuck invited Kevin? And, that got him through the rest of the drive.

There were cameras everywhere, even as they drove in, but the flashes and commotion were tenfold in their intensity without the protective barrier of steel and glass.

Bastian found himself shuffled along with the rest of his teammates through the doors, receiving his first piece of good news since Lukas left his room that morning. The seating was to be _alphabetical_. André, God bless him, couldn’t make it because he was sick, which meant that he got to sit next to Lukas.

Hurriedly, he took his seat and didn’t have to wait long for Lukas to take the seat to his right. Pinching his own thigh again for the second time that day, he tried to contain himself with all the cameras watching, but his body still overflowed with the extra energy, manifesting itself in a few casual touches and smiles shared between them.

While they listened to the speeches, they whispered to each other about their mornings spent apart and talked about what they were going to do before they went to the premiere.

.

Mesut watched them from the corner of his eye, wanting to whack them both in the back of their heads.

There was no way either of them could’ve thought they were being subtle by _any_ stretch of the imagination.

Mesut smiled widely as Lukas happened to finally look somewhere other than Bastian, and he took a moment to glance at Bastian himself, confirming that he only had Lukas’ attention for the moment while Bastian probably pretended that he wasn’t completely only interested in Lukas.

Honestly, he wondered why he even bothered trying to help them if they were going to act so obviously.

Then again, this _was_ how they usually acted in all situations. And, anything else would be out of the ordinary. But, the way they were behaving now would only serve to fuel the technically factural rumors about their relationship. So, they should be careful. Without making it look like there’s something wrong. Which would mean they still had to act friendly. Which, for them, would be acting _very_ friendly.

This was giving him a headache.

Pushing the confusing thoughts aside, Mesut noticed that Lukas had already had his attention back on Bastian. Sighing, Mesut turned to pretend he wasn’t feeling the sexual tension rolling off them in waves. He wondered if it had always been like this, and he only became more attuned to it because he _knew_. At least, he was pretty damn sure he knew.

Adjusting himself in his seat, he turned to start a conversation with Manuel, only to find Manuel still preoccupied with Thomas. Though, no surprises there. Inexplicably, Christoph's face flashed through his mind, and he didn’t know why.

There was no fucking way he was sitting between these people again. Fuck the alphabet.

And, now they wanted him to be in their picture. He pretended to smile. Hesupposed every picture needed a third wheel.

But where was André when he needed him? He was better at that than him.

.

Bastian promised himself that the next time he and Kevin were on the field together, he’d allow himself just one shove. Just a tiny one. He could pass it off as a  congratulatory back pat. So what if he fell to the ground because of it?

As Kevin walked away after interrupting his and Lukas’ private time to take a fucking picture with the three of them, Bastian glared at his back until Lukas nudged him in warning.

Breathing deeply, he tried to calm himself. At least they were alone now. That was, they were alone until Per spotted them, corralling them to take even more pictures with him and forcing Bastian to be the one to take the picture while he and Lukas got to stand in the back.

Bastian was not pleased, and the picture showed it.

One by one, sometimes in pairs, sometimes in groups, alone time just couldn’t exist for the two of them. There was always someone to talk to, someone to take pictures with.

Before he knew it, Jogi was rushing them off to the premiere.

.

He swore he barely brushed against Kevin. It was barely anything, and he even caught himself—the well-balanced asshole.

But, karma saw right through him and had to have been why no one would leave them alone and why Lukas couldn’t stand next to him for the group photos even though it would’ve been symmetrical that way.

He scowled as the photographers prepared took test shots, and something hit his ear.

Looking to his right, he saw Lukas who puckered his lips briefly at him before smiling. He felt his frustration dissolve, bringing him to a contented, peaceful state.

After that, he just went with the flow of taking pictures, speaking to reporters, and people always coming in between him and Lukas.

They’d find each other when they could, as soon as they could.

Bastian just had to accept that they’d have to wait until they could be alone. And, _then_ , he’d have Lukas all to himself.

.

Lukas was trying to hold it together for Bastian’s sake because he could tell Bastian was close to telling everyone to fuck off, but if one more person took him away from Bastian to take a picture or interrupted their own picture, he was going to take their phones and throw it far, far away just to keep himself from punching them.

When Lukas made it inside the theatres and to his seat first, he saved the seat next to him specifically for Bastian.

It actually made him wistful, reminding him of the movie from 2006. But, this time, this fucking time, they won.

And, it only took them ten years to get where they were.

.

Sitting in his rightful seat next to Lukas—take _that_ , Kevin—, Bastian was more than happy to take however many pictures the photographers wanted of them. He even took one using his own phone.

In his inexperienced hands, the picture came out blurry, and Manuel had rudely ruined the picture by coming into it at the last moment, but Bastian kept it anyway because it was still a good picture of Lukas.

When the lights dimmed, the title credits rolled, and people were only visible due to the glow of the screen, Bastian sent Lukas a poignant look.

When he returned it, and squeezed his hand, Bastian knew they were thinking the same thing.

.

Just before the lights came back on, Bastian took his head off Lukas’ shoulder and they disentangled themselves from each other. However, Bastian kept his arm around him, deeming it appropriate and casual enough.

As the theatre lit up completely, there were no lingering traces of the time they spent cuddling and reliving their experiences from that summer.

From there, the pace wound down marginally. They went back to the hotel that Jogi had booked for them to celebrate.

Bastian hoped that their luggage was in their rooms as promised, still intent on going through with his surprise.

When a few fans had spotted them and predictably asked to take pictures, Bastian took the chance to slip away, leaving him to deal with them by himself.

.

Lukas was going to kill Bastian for leaving him with the fans. Usually, he’d love spending time with fans, but it had been a long day, and all he wanted to do was curl into bed with Bastian, something that seemed more and more appealing to Lukas despite only having done it a few times before.

Before he had slipped into bed with Bastian that morning, Lukas felt his heart clench at the sight of him in bed, finding the urge to hold him or touch him in any way grip at him.

“Looking for Basti?” Thomas asked, sneaking up on him. He was with Manuel, and behind Manuel was Christoph. However, Christoph hung back slightly behind Manuel as well in a slight staggered formation, trying to get his attention.

Voice even, Lukas simply replied, “Nope.”

Thomas called his bluff, telling him, “Alright. But, he told me to tell you that he wanted you to go your room and wait for him there.”

“Why would he say that?”

"Just passing on the message.”

“Thanks, Tommy.”

“No problem. I’m not the ball boy for nothing.”

.

He pressed the call button for the elevator impatiently. If Thomas was telling the truth, then Bastian would be waiting for him there.

“Looking for love in all the wrong places?”

The soft breath in his ear sent bolts of lightning down to his core, sending his body into a restlessness.

“You were a lot smoother when you were half awake.”

“Shut up.” Gesturing with a small incline of his head towards the now open elevator, Bastian suggested, “Come on. Let’s go.”

He didn’t have to ask where, nodding.

.

Bastian ordered room service to go along with everything else. He had been watching Lukas from afar whenever they were separated, noticing that he hadn’t had a chance to eat yet, and he would need to keep his strength up for what he had in mind.

Standing in the middle of his room, he surveyed his work, debating on whether or not he should add flower petals as well but deciding against it. He had a hard enough time explaining to the staff why he wanted so many candles.

Bastian checked the time. He had kept Lukas waiting for long enough. Lighting the candles spread around the room, he went back downstairs to find Lukas. Dashing down the flights of stairs because he didn't have the patience to wait for the elevators, he found Lukas coincidentally in front of said elevators.

Unable to resist, he slid right next to him, whispering, “Looking for love in all the wrong places?”

.

It was no easy feat keeping his hands to himself on the long elevator ride up, but he figured Lukas wouldn't appreciate a mad dash up the stairs. He cursed the pesky security cameras watching them.

He hoped Lukas had caught onto the vague hints that he _did_ happen to give him about what he had planned. The entire time, it had sounded like he did and was looking forward to it just as much as Bastian was, but there was a chance Bastian was projecting his own desires onto Lukas.

In the fluorescent lighting of the elevator, Lukas looked tired around the edges. A beautiful kind of sadness that made Bastian want to worship and protect at all costs. It must have been worse at Arsenal than he thought, and his thoughts were already fairly bleak. He looked mentally exhausted more than anything, as if the things that weren’t to be spoken of were breaking him.

A lesser man would have called it quits.

Regardless, this wasn’t how Bastian was used to seeing Lukas, and it worried him, made him angrier than he’d already been on Lukas' behalf.

Bastian was more certain now than ever that Lukas needed this night.

Pulling him in for a comforting squeeze, he took the opportunity to whisper low in his ear. “I hope you’re ready for your surprise.”

Briefly, Lukas rubbed his nose tenderly against Bastian’s neck before pulling back in remembrance of the security cameras, replying with a promising half smile, “Well, I hear you can teach me a few things.”

There was a few seconds delay between the time Bastian opened the door to his room and the time it took for Lukas to push him into the room, shut the door, and threw himself at him.

Attempting to speak with their lips locked but wondering why he even bothered, Bastian managed to say, “Wait, Luki. Dinner. I’m trying to be romantic here.”

In a low voice, as if nothing could stop him from achieving his objective, Lukas declared, “Yeah, candles. I got it. You romanced the fuck out of me. Dinner can come later. _You_ , mein hase, come first.”

There was little he could do to persuade him otherwise at this point, but he couldn’t give up now, just barely remembering that he was supposed to be in charge tonight. He was supposed to be the one to make Lukas feel good about himself, not the other way around. If only for the night. Like Lukas did for him always.

Leading him to the bed, Lukas eagerly complied as Bastian took control and laid him down.

Bastian took great care in undressing him, almost lamenting the lost of getting to see him in a suit until he realized that he’d get to see him naked instead.

Greedily, he kissed each inch revealed to him, brushing his lips against the bare skin as he went. He didn’t get a chance to the last time they were together because Lukas was in charge, but this time, he would pay him the reverence he deserved.

Bastian undressed himself less carefully, barely leaving Lukas for a moment more than necessary, and soon, their clothes were strewn across his floor, some barely missing the light of the candles.

He had them both naked and pressed flush against each other. He’d forgotten how good Lukas’ bare skin felt on him and committed that to memory as well for the inevitably lonelier nights. God, he hated how empty he felt when he went to sleep alone that night. He hated how empty his own bed felt nowadays.

Settling in atop Lukas’ thighs, he took in the view spread out in front of him, leaving no room for anything but Lukas in his mind and in his heart.

Looking down, he honestly couldn’t decide where to start first. Everything about him was promising. Nodding to himself, he decided to work his way down.

Silencing the question that was about to form on Lukas’ lips because of the pause, Bastian took his mouth as his own. Despite only having the privilege of kissing Lukas only a handful of times, he could say with certainty that there was no way he could get tired of it.

Lukas’ arms came around him, his hands running up and down along his back, and his lips curved upwards before his tongue found its partner again. Rolling his hips into his, he reminded him that they were only beginning.

Emphasizing his point, he slipped his hand between them to stroke him, finding that he was already hard. Though, that was no surprise to Bastian. He had felt every inch of him, hot against his stomach.

He ran his finger along Lukas’ jaw. The stubble was almost sensual under his fingertips.

Hungrily, he began attacking the skin just under Lukas’ ear, nibbling at the hollow lightly to avoid leaving marks. As much as he’d like to, he didn’t think it wise to leave them where they’d be easily spotted.

Moving further down, he reached his neck, then his chest, then his stomach, trailing kisses and cataloguing each noise Lukas emitted for future reference. He doubled back to the spots that made Lukas the most restless.

When he reached Lukas' hips, he let his eyes follow down to where his muscles created an aesthetically pleasing V shape that he’d had since they were young and which only grew more defined over the years.

Mentally, he braced himself. Although this was something he wanted to do, he was very much out of his element, having done research online after determining his personal experience lacking.

And, research was nothing compared to the real thing.

The head of Lukas’ cock stood proudly, and he stared at it, deep in thought, absentmindedly stroking it as he deliberated. He let his tongue run across his lips before he bit down on his lower lip in concentration.

Lukas let out a whimper, distracting Bastian from his thoughts.

He could see hesitance from Lukas that most likely stemmed from his own. But, there was also curiosity mixed in with desire.

So, before he could stop him, Bastian lowered his head, tongue darting out to taste him. He could feel Lukas’ muscles twitch beneath him, so he did it again, this time running his tongue from base to tip. He felt him twitch again, and he nervously looked up to confirm whether or not Lukas was enjoying himself.

He wasn’t sure what to expect, but Lukas staring intently at him while propped on his elbows wasn’t something he had considered.

Hiding his smirk, he then confidently wrapped his fingers around his base, drawing him up and down with what he hoped was maddening slowness.

In between giving him a wink and taking Lukas fully into his mouth—he was really grateful he had the foresight to do research however different it was from reality—, Lukas let out a choked gasp and dropped onto his back, palms pressed against his eyes.

Gently sucking at his tip and watching Lukas’ reactions with apt interest, he was rewarded with barely coherent swear words from his beautifully swollen lips. He was certain that Lukas threw in some Polish as well, and he chuckled as he recognized a few of them. He was thrilled he could have this much of an effect on Lukas, and he was proud of himself for not being incredibly terrible at sex.

There was also something to be said about the rush from the power he had over Lukas.

As he took more and more of Lukas in his mouth, he reached down to soothe his own aching cock, squeezing and stroking himself.

From above him, he heard Lukas mutter, “Fuck, you’re sexy,” before threading his fingers in his hair, alternating between massaging his scalp and bringing him down so he’d take more of him in. With renewed vigor and very eager to please, Bastian’s head bobbed up and down, tongue tracing along the ridges of his length with each upward motion.

“I’m close, Basti,” he cautioned him huskily, trying to push him away.

But, Bastian wasn’t having any of that, intent on properly bringing him to completion.

It happened suddenly, and he almost choked as Lukas came thickly against the back of his throat, swallowing when he realized what was going on and forcing himself to stay calm.

Lukas tasted neither particularly good nor bad, but the explicit moaning from Lukas as he did it more than persuaded him to continue doing it during future trysts. Bastian gave him one last lick before releasing him.

Sighing, Lukas sagged bonelessly against the bed, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession.

“So,” Bastian panted, equally breathless. “Ready for dinner?”

Lukas laughed and threw his arm across his eyes. He wasn’t even the one doing anything, but he felt drained. “You are amazing, you know that?”

“I know what I am,” he replied before dragging himself off the bed, still incredibly aroused. He resisted touching himself further and reminded himself that the night wasn’t about him. But, it was almost painful how aroused he was, and he worried his lip in frustration.

Standing at the service cart, he lifted up the metal dome to uncover the strawberries and whipped cream. The whipped cream had gotten rather unwhipped during their activities, but the strawberries still looked fresh enough.

Taking the still chilled bowl, he got back into bed and set it next to them. He picked a bright red one and lifted Lukas’ arm, intent on feeding him. Lukas smiled up at him and opened his mouth. They went through about half the bowl before Bastian bent down to kiss the juice that gathered on Lukas’ lips and made them red.

He found his lips but also found that he’d been inadvertently feeding another hunger within Lukas as well, and the bowl was unceremoniously knocked off the bed in his carelessness.

More impassioned and bolder than earlier, Lukas brought Bastian down to lie with him on the bed as he kissed him feverishly. Pressed against him, Bastian felt him grow hard again as he locked his arms around Lukas’ neck.

Pushing Lukas back down to the mattress, he nipped at Lukas’ shoulder in admonition.

“Stay _still_ ,” he ordered before moving off the bed to find his suitcase. Almost triumphantly, he pulled a small bottle from the zippered compartment inside.

Lukas watched him with great interest, and he grinned in response as he made his way back to the bed to resume his position on top of him.

He let him watch as he coated his fingers with the contents of the bottle, holding his gaze as he began to prime himself. He was somewhat embarrassed that Lukas was watching him so intently, but he gained strength from the desire that he saw clouding Lukas’ gaze and he found the will to continue on anyway.

.

Lukas rested his hands on Bastian’s hips, staring as he worked himself for _him_.

He exhaled deeply as a heady wave of arousal and possession made him impatient, and his grip tightened. Bastian's brazen actions and slightly parted lips seemed meticulously crafted to seduce only him.

Bringing his lips down to him, he kissed him and told him, “Let me.”

Grabbing his hand, he tried to flip their positions, but Bastian resisted, staying resolutely on his thighs and keeping him pinned.

“Stop that,” he ordered with a rolling motion of his hips.

Lukas bit back a moan as he protested, “But I can—”

“No,” he said firmly, cutting him off. “Not today you’re not.”

Lukas was in a state of confused arousal. He was incredibly turned on by Bastian’s assertiveness, but he also couldn’t stay in a passive role.

“But—”

“We do this my way or we don’t do it at all.”

He arched his eyebrow in at the odd insistence, but this was not the time to figure it out. “Can I at least do that for you?”

During the next few moments that seemed to stretch on forever, Lukas thought he’d die from the torturous wait before Bastian tilted his head in acceptance.

Without missing a beat, Lukas took the bottle from his hand and poured a generous amount onto his fingers.

As Bastian bit at his lip and watched him eagerly, Lukas was reminded of how needy Bastian could get when he was aroused. The thought made his entire body shiver in anticipation.

Bucking his hips slightly, he held Bastian steady as he was rocked forward. Finally close enough, he took his time teasing Bastian with his lips, distracting him just enough so that he practically jumped out of his skin when Lukas pressed his fingers where he wanted him most.

Bastian squirmed against his fingers, and by instinct, he broke the kiss to turn his head at the intrusion, but Lukas stopped him with his other hand, taking his jaw and forcibly turning it back to him. He had relinquished control, and it was Lukas’ turn now.

He lifted his knees further up behind Bastian, bringing him as close as physically possibly, to get a better angle.

.

Now that Bastian wasn’t half gripped with fear, he was able to enjoy everything that Lukas made him feel.

He only struggled between continuing their kiss and grinding back into the mischievous hand that was doing such lovely things to him.

But soon he felt, while Lukas’ fingers felt far better than his own did, he wanted more.

So, he begged him, “ _More_.”

Breathing heavily, when he felt Lukas’ fingers retreat, his head cleared enough to remember that this was supposed to be about Lukas for the umpteenth time that night, and he allowed his anger at himself to overshadow his own selfish desires.

“Basti—,” Lukas said as Bastian shakily forced his back against the mattress.

Leaving no room for argument, he ordered, “Shut up. Just lay there and enjoy it.”

.

Amused at Bastian’s command and even more aroused by his aggressive attitude, Lukas wordlessly complied, leaving his hands on Bastian’s hips once more as Bastian figured out the best way to do whatever he was planning. Lukas only wished he’d figure it out soon. Having Bastian there and ready to be fucked but not being allowed to was the worst kind of personal hell he could experience.

.

Bastian hesitated after ordering Lukas to lay there.

Honestly, he’d never been in this position before, and he wasn’t sure what to do.

Finally, he settled on just going for it, positioning himself over the tip of Lukas’ cock. He shuddered as he brought himself slowly down Lukas’ shaft, the overflow of pleasure short circuiting his brain beyond functionality. But, somehow, he eventually managed to fill himself completely.

Mere moments during his pause, he felt Lukas’ grip tighten on him, reaching through to his addled mind His cock twitched in response to the pressure. He knew what Lukas wanted.

Giving himself time to adjust to his size, he pinched Lukas when he tried to get him to move before he was ready.

IBut, in retaliation, Bastian earned a vengeful thrust and a wink in response, letting out a sharp gasp. It was so on.

He leaned forward and grabbed Lukas’ wrists, placing them above his head to keep them there. Staring straight at him, he dropped a kiss to his lips and grinned savagely.

Deliberately slow, he brought himself up and down along his entire length, smirking at his helplessness while he struggled to keep from fucking himself on Lukas’ cock until his knees gave out.

“Basti. I. Faster,” he groaned incoherently, forgetting his bravado moments prior.

Biting his lip to maintain his sanity because the pace was killing him as well, he announced, “You know what to do, Luki. Say the magic words.”

“ _Please_ go faster," he said immediately.

And, imperceptibly, Bastian moved faster. “Now say you’ll never not go on Skype when I ask.”

“Never.”

“Never _what_?”

Whimpering, Lukas desperately repeated, “I’ll never _not_ go on Skype when you ask.”

“Excellent,” he panted. “ _And_ , promise you’ll stop sending me naughty pictures when I can’t do anything about it.”

Exerting as much self control as he could, Lukas replied, “Never!”

Fuck it all. Bastian complained, “It’s not fair, Luki!”

“But you like them!”

“Fine… But, remember this for next time when you’re being a tease.”

“Basti! This is cruel and unusual punishment. What are you trying to do to me?”

“Alright. I got it. This is the last one,” Bastian stopped moving completely and brought his hand to Lukas’ face. His expression softened, and he continued, “… always talk to me, okay, Luki? I hate it when you keep things to yourself… I want you to talk to me about everything.”

“I do, Basti. Everything,” Lukas swore wholeheartedly.

“Not _everything_ …”

“Fuck, Basti. Fuck it!”

In a flash, Bastian found himself on his back after Lukas’ outburst. Finally in the position to do so, Lukas thrust deeply into him, hitting every good spot Bastian didn’t think anyone else could make him feel, and Bastian gave up on whatever he was trying to do before, far too satisfied with the situation to do anything else.

“Whatever you want, mein hase. But _you_ remember that you’re _mine_ ,” he growled predatorily, fixing him with a feral stare.

Trying to keep his breathing even as Lukas fucked him into the mattress, Bastian argued in between quick breaths, “I told you that was just a misunderstanding.”

“I don’t fucking care. You’re _mine_.”

“But—”

His protests turned to swearing and moaning and pleas for more as Lukas finished what he started. His legs wrapped around his waist, encouraging him to go faster, harder. To make him his, truly and completely. He saw a blinding color beyond white as Lukas’ hips slammed relentlessly into his.

He wanted to weep with joy and oversentimentality because he felt like he was coming home again and again with each thrust.

The hand he felt around his cock could have been his but it was more likely Lukas’ because he couldn’t think to do anything except to keep himself together as Lukas brought him to a shattering climax.

Bastian’s head fell back, mouth open, but no sounds came out.

.

He wanted each thrust he delivered to convey his feelings better than any words ever could. But, he felt like he was failing, and he doubled his efforts.

He was too far gone, but he kept surging forward without mercy anyway.

This is what Bastian drove him to. There was no inhibition in what he was doing. No control. Not anymore.

When Bastian came in hot spurts in his hand, he tenderly massaged his ass, still fucking him as he slumped against him. Fucking him until he forgot his name but would remember that the person who made him feel that way loves him in a way they didn’t know how to express.

Thrusting twice more, he was almost in agony as he came, teeth clenched and body taut with tension.

Fiercely, he kissed Bastian one last time before he let them both fall back against the sheets in utter exhaustion.

He then gave himself a minute of rest before he grabbed his phone and set an alarm, gathering the blankets around Bastian as he got out of bed, bones weary.

“What are you doing?”

“Just putting out the candles. Might be safer this way,” he answered lightly. “Thank you for the surprise, mein hase.”

From the bed, Bastian spoke into the growing darkness of the room. “That wasn’t exactly what I had planned.”

“No?”

“No.”

“What was it supposed to be then?”

Yawning, he replied, “I was supposed to do everything so that you could enjoy yourself, but you wouldn’t just lay there.”

“Sorry,” he laughed. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Clearly.”

“But I did enjoy myself.”

“Mhmm,” he muttered sleepily.

“I did.” Lukas whispered in his ear as he put out the last candle and came back to the bed.

“Me, too,” he mumbled.

“I really do tell you everything, Basti. I promise.”

“Mhmm. Me, too.”

“I do..”

“Mhmm.”

“Even if you don’t believe me, I really do.”

“Mmm...”

“Schweini… the penguins are revolting and are planning to overthrow Santa.”

“Me, too.”

Lukas shook his head and grinned to himself. He gently moved Bastian to one side so he could get in, bringing him back against his chest as he did, and they both lay in the center.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: There’s like two or three more major plot points I want to cover before this story is complete. Looking forward to it. But, I took out the important plot at the end cause I was not writing even more at this hour. Seriously.
> 
> Also, so like I said, I was writing in my living room, and I type really loudly. And then this happened.
> 
> My sister: What are you writing over there? It sounds like a lot.
> 
> Me: Nothing… [dims laptop and angles it away from everyone]
> 
> All the time.
> 
> Also, there are a few things I want to fix, such as the correct spellings and accents on names and that dreadful match against Poland (must fix to where it’s not even recognizable as Poland cause I didn’t know! I’m so sorry, babies). But, that probably won’t happen for a while… Ugh.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I wrote this whilst simultaneously reading scary stories, so… I’m not sure if that affects the tone of the narrative, but… :D Somehow. Kitties.

**State of the Union**

.

Bastian woke up first, hurriedly shaking Lukas awake.

There was shrieking all around them, not unlike when Thomas got excited.

But, it wasn’t Thomas scrolling through pictures of cute horses on his phone this time. It was the warning sounds of a fire alarm, and playing alongside the alarm was a disembodied voice advising them to evacuate in a looped recording.

He rolled out of bed in a panic, dragging the sheets off the bed as he went and exposing Lukas’ form.

When he got his head on straight, he began throwing clothes at him.

Rashly, he hissed, “I thought you put out all the candles!”

“I did,” Lukas replied with a tired yawn, pulling the garments from across his face and getting out of bed with a pointed deliberateness in his actions. He pulled on the pants he wore last night and, oddly enough, one of his shirts that he hadn’t seen for a long time. He eyed it and then Bastian in amusement before claiming, “It’s not us.”

Bastian poked his head through the worn shirt he selected for himself, yet another shirt Lukas recognized quite well from the times it resided in his own closet. “Then who else could it be? You think it’s just a coincidence that the one time we use candles, the hotel’s on fire?”

“We don’t know that it’s a fire,” Lukas reasoned. “And even then. So what? Do you see a fire in here? It’s got to be something or _someone_ else.”

“Just—come on.”

“Yes, _dear_ ,” he called out as Bastian opened the door just a crack, presumably to make sure no one was there to catch them.

Harshly, he hushed him, “Shh!,” before he slipped out with the grace of a feline whereas Lukas followed him out with a stubborn lack of subtlety.

Bastian relaxed as much as he could as he made his way down the stairwell with Lukas. The faint scent of the char hung in the air.

“I smell smoke.”

“Well it’s not from our room,” he shot back.

Along the way, there were other patrons who openly stared at the two current World Champions, but they didn’t bother them or didn’t have a chance to bother them in the clamor to get out of the hotel safely.

When they spilled out into the hotel courtyard, they spotted a few of their teammates. Some were wrapped in blankets to ward off the creeping winter chill. Bastian himself would have been bundled up in a warm blanket as well but had forgotten in his worried rush.

It was clear he was not made for the cold despite having been born and raised in seasonally weathered Germany.

He shivered miserably as he walked over to them, cursing under his breath with clattering teeth. He cupped his hands and brought them to his mouth, breathing in the cold air to exhale hot in an effort to unthaw them as best he could.

His warmed breath escaped through his fingers in a cloud of mist and fog, disappearing almost instantly.

Invitingly warm hands slid up and down his arms unexpectedly, creating heat through their innocent touches, and there was a hitch in his movements, marked by the unevenness of wispy vapors he breathed.

Remembering they were in public, he urged his body to move again. To do something to cast a veil of normalcy and everyday on their actions. He couldn’t give them away now, no matter how much he wanted to simply turn into Lukas’ embrace.

Once Bastian regained motor control, they walked awkwardly towards the group.

Lukas’ arm came to rest around him as they joined them, and Bastian released a long sigh of relief as no eyebrows were raised or comments made.

He could welcome the heat radiating from his body, closing his eyes in revelry and thanks.

When he opened his eyes, more and more of their team had gathered, adding to their grumpy cloud of semiconsciousness. No one had a clue as to what or who had triggered the alarm.

In their misshapen circle, there were little words exchanged amongst them. For a number of them, it was far too late to do anything and far too early to consider starting anything, including a conversation.

Through half lidded eyes, Bastian took in the growing streaks of color faintly lighting up the sky, creating a dark silhouette of a skyline. His breath mixed in with Lukas’ from beside him before floating away into the scene before him. His head had dropped to Bastian’s shoulder as he swapped sparse words with Jerome who was not pleased with having his sleep interrupted. As a parent, this already happened a lot more often than he would have liked, and he may or may not have made veiled threats towards Thomas if he happened to discover that it was him.

When Jogi came, they looked to him expectantly.

He looked worried as he scanned their faces before coming to rest in Bastian’s direction.

“Thank God you’re alright. They said the fire started in your room, but they didn’t find anyone there when they went in to put it out.”

Bastian nudged Lukas as if to say, _I told you so_ , eliciting a dramatic eye roll from Lukas.

“That’s impossible,” Lukas stated adamantly.

“They said some candles were left unattended. Do you know anything about that?”

Keeping a firm hold on Lukas, he answered, “No… I was with Poldi—”

“Of course you were,” someone snickered, cutting him off.

Bastian scowled, pulling himself from Lukas’ half embrace. He regretted it immediately when a biting wind hit his back but didn’t move.

Lukas looked at him in question, but he gave nothing away.

Jogi glared into the crowd, but it was hard to see who said it when a group of them were innocently smiling back at him.

Crossing his arms, Jogi informed them, “No matter _how_ it happened, the room was damaged badly enough that you’ll have to room with someone else for the night at least. Luckily, it was mainly contained to your room and the balcony. I’ve talked with the hotel manager, and they’re going to allow you to gather your things while their staff and the fire brigade get things sorted out.”

Bastian furrowed his eyebrows, perplexed. Though he didn’t want to admit it to Lukas, their room didn’t seem damaged in any way when they left.

Without having to think, Lukas announced, “Alright. So, Basti’ll just stay in my room.”

However, Bastian had other plans that didn’t include drawing attention to them sharing a room. “It’s fine. I’ll stay with Manu since our sleep cycles are in sync.”

Manuel smirked at him in amusement. “If you insist, Basti. _Because our sleep cycles are in sinc_.”

Bastian reconsidered his options, thinking about all the questions he might be subjected to if he stayed with Manuel.

“What? No, Basti can have my room,” Christoph said suddenly from behind Manuel. He didn’t like the look his two older teammates exchanged. “I’ll stay with Manu,” he insisted. Meekly, he followed up with, “The captain should get his own room…”

Genuinely concerned by the arrangement, Mario joined in, offering, “Basti can have my room then. I don’t use my room anyway.”

“Where do you sleep then if you don’t use your room?”

“I sleep with Marco.”

From the side, Thomas muttered, “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Coming to Mario’s defense, Marco asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing!”

Before it could get any further, Jogi stepped in. He would’ve stepped in earlier, but even he was slightly interested as to where the conversation was heading. “First of all, no. Second, I think you’ve all misunderstood. It wasn’t Basti’s room that was damaged.”

Bastian felt Lukas nudge him smugly.

“It was Poldi’s.”

And suddenly, it made both more and less sense at the same time.

Lukas spluttered, “Wait… what? How? I was barely in my—” A hard elbow found its way to his stomach, and he corrected himself, “I didn’t have any candles in my room.”

“Then how could this have happened?”

.

Off to the side, Matthias kicked at Erik’s shoes, nudging him awake from his unconscious standing position. His guilty conscience was screaming at him, and he couldn’t handle it alone.

Startled, Erik jerked awake, drawing attention to the pair. All eyes went to them suspiciously as Matthias’ face grew guilty, and Erik gave up on his friend. But, he supposed, his foolish honesty was what made Erik like their friendship so much in the first place.

Sighing, he awaited Jogi’s interrogation and subsequent punishment.

Surprisingly, Jogi’s eyes left him and Matthias almost instantly. He instead looked around the rest of the group, stopping when he spotted Thomas on the other side, seemingly in the midst of an escape.

.

“Muller!”

Stopping in his tracks, he smiled broadly and saluted him. “Sir, yes, sir!”

“What do you know about the candles in Poldi’s room?”

He shrugged with a practiced innocence. “That they started a fire?”

“Thomas.”

Seeing that his act failed to work, he admitted, “I thought Basti would like it.”

“What the fuck, Tommy?” Bastian exclaimed.

With a heave of his shoulders as if there was some incredible weight upon them, Jogi unamusedly asked,“Do you mean to tell me that you’re the one responsible for the fire?”

“Well, Matti and Erik helped, too.”

“It was your idea!” Erik said incredulously, holding Matthias’ hand to keep him from breaking out in tears. Erik knew that he rarely ever got into trouble and had a hard time handling authority being disappointed in him.

“Stop,” Jogi ordered with a wave of his hand. With controlled anger, he asked, “Why would you even _think_ to do this in the first place?”

“Well, a few weeks ago, I was reading in the newspapers about how Basti wanted all those candles in his room back in Brazil, and I—”

Again, Bastian interrupted, this time in justification. “It was for the ambiance!”

“ _Exactly_ , and I—”

He colored. “Not that kind of ambiance! The trainers said I needed to relax more and suggested scented candles.”

“If you say so, Basti,” he replied. His tone indicated that he didn’t believe him for a second. “But, as I was saying. I got the idea from the article and thought you’d like them. I was just trying to help.”

“Then why’d you put them in _my_ room?”

With another shrug, he said as if it were obvious, “Thought he’d be in your room for most of the night.”

With a strangled laughter that Bastian hope no one picked up on, he asked, “Why—why would you think that?”

“Because you two usually spend the night playing games. Was I wrong?”

“No...,” he said in hesitation.

“See? How was I supposed to know you’d go to Basti’s room and stay _there_? I even told you he was waiting by your room. If you two just went along with my plans, then—”

In frustration, Bastian shouted, “How did you even get in his room?”

“Because I’m forgetful and always lose my key, but you can definitely trust me when I say that that’s my room? If only _someone_ went back to their room like I told them to.”

“We—”

Bastian covered his mouth as soon as he heard him start to speak, lest he say something untoward, and shot Thomas down, definitively stating, “This is not our fault.”

“It’s not mine.”

“Yes it is! You’re the maniac who set them up.”

“Quiet!” He shouted loudly at them, drawing attention from bystanders as well. “Look,” Jogi said more quietly to deter eavesdroppers and stepping between the two. “I want to get _everyone_ back to sleep before practice. So, back to the matter at hand. Poldi, we need to find a room for you.”

“Oh, Poldi can stay in my room,” Kevin volunteered, happily oblivious to the glare he received.

“The hell he can,” Bastian snarled. Ignoring the surprise on Kevin’s face in response to his aggression, Bastian tried to rectify his outburst, “Since I’m captain, it’s one of my duties to take care of the team… He can have my bed…”

Correctly wary of the potential discussion that might follow, Jogi turned his attention back to Lukas and quickly said, “Alright then. Poldi will stay with Basti. Poldi, follow me, and we can get your things.”

Unfortunately for Thomas, Jogi wasn’t as quick to forget and back to his own much needed rest.

Remembering how they got into the mess in the first place, he turned back to face him and ordered, “But, first, Thomas, while I take Poldi to his room, you’re going to apologize to _everyone_ you’ve inconvenienced. Every hotel guest, firefighter, and all the guests. As for everyone else—,” he pointedly faced towards Matthias, Erik, and the rest of the younger adults, as he spoke, “—stop going along with this idiot’s plans. _Now_ , you’re dismissed.”

.

Trudging back up the now empty staircase—the other guests had gone back to their rooms while they were having their inquisition—, Lukas remarked, “I was wondering why Thomas told me you were waiting for me in my room.”

“You didn’t question him?”

“Well, I knew you were waiting for me _somewhere_. How was I supposed to know he set up a fire hazard in my room?” Shaking his head in defiance against his mind trying to comprehend the mystery that was Thomas Muller, Lukas placed his hand on the small of Bastian’s back, urging him quicker up the steps to their room. “Let’s just go back to sleep.”

“I don’t know,” he intoned, jumping to the next step out of Lukas’ reach and turning around to face him from above.

“What?”

“I’m not really tired anymore,” he explained, bringing his arms up in a languid stretch before arching his eyebrow in challenge.

Cocking his head in consideration, Lukas returned Bastian’s mischievous glance, hurrying him more urgently up the stairwell.

Despite his bravado, as soon as Lukas had his back turned, Bastian fell soundlessly asleep.

He was torn between forcing him to deliver on what he was promised and reveling in the domesticity.

His eyes traced along Bastian’s figure as he slept and a longing ache hit him in waves, creating a heaviness that he didn’t know how to fight off. He felt like he was being carried under, pulled under by Bastian into some great unknown.

Resigned, Lukas let him sleep, sighing as he rest against him.

.

The following day had none of charm of the previous. It was back to business for them all.

Their next match was with Gibraltar, but it wouldn’t do for them to start slacking off now, _especially_ not now. They were the favorites to win, but there was pressure in that as well.

They were expected to score well into double digits after both Ireland and Poland scored seven goals each against them and kept clean sheets as well. Doing anything less would be akin to admitting they were slipping, and that was never an option.

.

Such was their mentality throughout the match.

Gibraltar wasn’t much competition in terms of skill level; however, they were skilled enough to stop them from scoring more than four goals. And even then, one of them was an own goal, amazingly forced by Lukas, who was subbed in during the second half.

As expected, Jogi wasn’t pleased with their performance, making it clear that he expected more from his team and setting the tone for the skeptically labeled friendly with Spain a few days later.

.

During the team’s down time in Vigo after their intensified practices in the face of their friendly against Spain, neither Bastian nor Lukas could be found for long periods of time, and it seemed that someone had finally noticed. And, that someone was fed up with it all.

A day before the match, Thomas was accosted outside his room as he was heading downstairs for dinner.

There was no Manuel around to save him.

His trepidation gave way to relief as he came face to face with Mario. Thomas tried very hard not to laugh at the odd position they were in. Mario was at least a head shorter than him and was apparently trying to intimidate him.

Fortunately, Mario didn’t hesitate or sugarcoat his intentions.

“What’s going on between Poldi and Basti?”

Taken aback by the young boy’s sudden interest… and increased awareness, Thomas stalled, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I mean, kind of. But…”

Fisting his hands in Thomas shirt, Mario demanded, “Tell me what you know. And I don’t buy that story about Sarah visiting.”

Now that _was_ new to Thomas. Stepping to the side and uncurling his fingers from his shirt, Thomas asked, “Sarah? Basti’s ex? When did she visit?”

Clutching at his hair, Mario impatiently explained where he got his secondhand information. “Toni told me that he saw Basti outside his room talking to Manu, and it looked like he had been… you know…”

At his faltering, Thomas’ eyes widened in shock and disbelief. “Basti and Manu—”

“No!” Mario exclaimed with a confused look on his face. “Unless you—”

Thomas shook his head in denial.

“No. _No_. Not those two. Of course not. Toni just said it looked like Manu _interrupted_ something, but he didn’t really get a good look cause they told him to fuck off. And then later, Manu and Mesut told Toni that Basti was with Sarah and to keep it a secret, but I don’t believe it.”

Mentally, he noted to bring this horrid slight of not being kept in the loop to Manuel.

“And then, I was out with Marco today to check out Casto Citadel, and I _know_ I saw Basti and Poldi. I swear they were alone together, and they were playing with this one kitten, and I tried to get a closer look, but Marco distracted me with food, and I lost them when I turned around,” he rambled. “But it had to have been them!”

Thomas resisted the urge to cackle at the image of his two older teammates playing with kittens. It helped that Mario was freaking out, and Thomas was uncomfortably the adult in this situation. As calmly as he could, he ventured, “Why do you care if it was them or not? It wouldn’t change how you saw them, right?”

“No,” he agreed immediately, still visibly distraught. Beseechingly, he claimed with glassy eyes, “I just want to know. I have to know.”

Speechless, something prodded at the back of Thomas’s mind. He had a feeling he knew what this was about, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t know how to approach it or comfort him, grasping for the most appropriate words but coming up empty.

Ultimately, his efforts were for naught, and they never got any further than that.

Before he knew it, Mario had walked briskly down the hall, wiping at his eyes. His gait was purposeful as he marched off in search of something that Thomas didn’t seem to be able to help with.

.

Lukas had told him that he had heard about a place known to be filled with cats from one of the Spanish players he’d met, and it more than lived up to its reputation. All they had to do was go down a few stone staircases, and they would practically be in a haven for just cats.

How he got the information wasn’t so surprising to Bastian; it was Lukas after all. He made friends wherever he went and regardless of the circumstances under which he met them. However, what bothered Bastian was the fact that he was forced to suffer because of it.

There was no false advertisement. There were cats everywhere. And, unfortunately for Bastian, the cats all had their claws intact.

And, to add further suffering on top of his misery, there was also the agenda for their trip.

Lukas had been trying to convince him for months that cats weren’t unholy creatures of the damned, but the scratches along his arm didn’t help endear them to him at all. He much preferred the scratches that Lukas left, and he said as much, resulting in a very enjoyable string of events but did not result in them leaving.

He had to admit though, the sight of Lukas playing with the rotten fur balls did manage to touch his heart in the slightest of ways.

It emboldened him, and he took one cautious step closer, watching as Lukas crouched down near a patch of tall grass.

He had been trying to coax the rude kitten from its abysmal hiding spot, holding out his hand like a paw and making meowing noises. The kitten didn’t take the bait.

Bastian, on the other hand, scoffed at the kitten’s lack of taste. He’d have jumped into Lukas’ awaiting arms hours ago especially if that meant they got to leave the godforsaken nest of Satan’s army.

One long minute of meowing later, much to Bastian’s surprise—but then again, there were very few who were unaffected by Lukas’ charm—, Lukas had eventually managed to gain the kitten’s favor. As Lukas gathered the kitten to his chest, Bastian recognized it as one of the ones who attacked him unprovoked. It was almost a betrayal that Lukas was holding it so carefully to him.

More than the annoyance, Bastian felt a spike of jealousy rise sharply within him.

He silently admonished himself, keeping an eye on Lukas and the kitten.

Honestly, he’d been feeling ridiculous lately. Every time Lukas so much as looked at someone else, he felt insanely territorial, wanting to shove them away in order to keep Lukas to himself. During practice, it was their teammates. And now, it was a freaking cat. Satan spawn or not, it was still a damned cat.

He needed to get it together. His judgment was hugely impaired at this point, and he didn’t think it’d get better.

Lukas stood carefully, holding the cat with one arm to him and letting the kitten play with the fingers of his other hand. Slowly, he carried him over to where Bastian was, beaming at him.

“Here, Basti. You hold him now.”

He must have pulled a face because Lukas laughed at him.

“He won’t scratch you… again. Look at him. He’s sorry. You just scared him.”

“I scared _him_? I didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, but you’re like twenty times his size.”

“And that’s my fault? I didn’t even want to come here.”

“Basti,” he admonished in a firm tone. “Don’t be a dick about it.”

Breathing out in resigned exasperation, Bastian held onto his skepticism but reluctantly took the kitten from him gingerly. He held it aloft in front of him, unwilling to hold it closer to him like Lukas did.

It looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. They were a sparkling green. He noticed that his fur was slightly dirty and matted, but underneath the mess was a light blond color. The two of them stared at each other curiously for a moment, and Bastian almost let his guard down. Almost because as soon as he even considered it, it darted out of his arms, swiping at his chest before landing perfectly upright onto the stone pavement and running far away from them.

By his posture, Bastian could tell that Lukas was already contemplating running after him. In their short time together, he’d already grown attached.

“Schweini!”

At that, Bastian let out a sharp laugh of surprise. Lukas was more attached to the cat than he thought. “Did you just call it ‘Schweini’…?”

Not picking up on his cues, Lukas replied in distracted worry for his feline friend, “Yeah.”

Chagrinned, Bastian rubbed at his chest where the kitten struck him. Waving his hand in front of his face, Bastian asked, “And why exactly did you name it ‘Schweini’?”

His ears perked, and his attention was back on Bastian. A small smirk found its way onto his lips, and Bastian couldn’t help but fall for him just a little more.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No,” he said emphatically.

“It’s cause he looked like you the most out of all the other cats. So, I named him ‘Schweini.’”

While Bastian stood stunned, Lukas took the chance to kiss him, cupping his chin and covering his lips with his own, persuading them to part.

There was another deep sigh that left him when Lukas ended the kiss. This time, it was tinged with contentment.

“Let’s go find him then.”

He tugged at his hand, and the two gave chase, following where they had seen Schweini run to.

They gave up when it was too dark to see anything in the unlit paths of Casto Citadel, much less a cat. Despite their combined efforts, Schweini was lost to them.

.

Long after the dinner with the team and after he had climbed into bed, Lukas stared at the ceiling in silence with Bastian lying next to him. Bastian had snuck back to his room after publicly saying good night to the few disinterested teammates lingering after dinner, maintaining that he was the sneakier of the two.

Shifting, he asked aloud, “You think we can get a cat?”

.

Almost resolutely, Bastian didn’t answer him, but more than likely, Lukas knew he was awake anyway.

“Come on. You think we can?”

Breathing deeply, he snuggled in closer to Lukas, hoping to ingrain his scent into his skin. The end of the international break was near, and he was already starting a process of trying to imprint as much of Lukas into his memories as he could.

He wanted to tell him that he could have whatever he wanted, especially if that meant they could lay in contented silence on one of their few nights together. But, he instead answered it as if it were a serious question, “We live too far apart.”

Struck with an abrupt panic by the startling truth in his own words, Bastian searched for his hand under the sheets, discovering that he was looking for his as well. Fingers locked, Bastian calmed somewhat, taking deeper and deeper breaths.

“Humor me.”

He tried for nonchalance, though he was sure Lukas could hear his quickening heartbeat. “I answered you, didn’t I? Plus, you already have a dog.”

“Just pretend,” Lukas insisted. “Pretend we were living together. We could have a cat then right?”

Bastian was silent again.

If they were living together, they could do a lot more than own a cat. They could see each other outside of international breaks. They could see each other whenever they wanted. They could have more moments like this.

He squeezed his hand and turned to face him, curling into his side. He cradled Lukas’ hand close to him like it was own, nuzzling against his fingers with his cheek.

Lukas’ fingers uncurled and curled again around his chin, tilting it up to him as if to kiss him.

“Yeah.”

His face moved closer to his, and he waited expectantly, but Lukas only rested his forehead against his.

Finding his other hand, he continued, “Maybe we could find another Schweini, eh?”

“Nah. Schweini’s one of a kind.”

“I kind of miss him...”

“You shouldn’t,” he said.

Pressing his lips to Bastian’s forehead, he pulled him tight against his broad chest.

Lukas’ heart beat just as strongly as Bastian’s.

.

Lukas and Mesut waited at their gate together.

International break was officially over, and at least half of their teammates were already in the planes flying over their heads.

In the friendly against Spain, Lukas and Bastian were both on the bench for the entirety of the first half before getting subbed in late during the second. From there, the tempo changed, as it was wont to do when both of them were on the pitch together. They sparked their teammates’ fervor with their undeniable charisma and excitement for the sport.

Even then, they had won by a narrow margin, one to nothing. Toni had been the only one to have scored.

But, Spain was behind them for now. There’d be more matches to come later. Though, Lukas wondered how many more he’d see.

Sometimes one by one, sometimes in pairs of two or maybe even three or more, the rest of their teammates left to go back to their respective clubs.

Next to him, Mesut was attempting to engage him in conversation about their upcoming game with Manchester United, but Lukas was unusually reserved, thinking about the missing third to their previous German trio and now duo.

Per was an unspoken topic between the two of them. Neither of them was willing to address it when they could ignore it instead. It was easier for them anyway since they were at least still playing club football with him. His absence at the international level only caught them woefully off guard when the others on the team would occasionally call for him or wonder where he was before remembering his retirement.

However, regardless of the significance of Per’s absence to him, it wasn’t the only thing weighing on Lukas’ mind.

More and more, he thought of what he’d be returning to by going back to London.

.

They should have won.

The sentiment echoed amongst the teammates, the staff, and the fans.

It cut at him.

They should have won, and he didn’t even get to play. But, honestly, he wasn’t surprised.

Wenger had promised him change, but there was nothing he could see that was different over the past few games. Even in the face of the team’s numerous injuries, he had started just once this season during the abysmal lost against Southamptom.

Olivier, on the other hand, had been subbed in instead of him, fresh from his injury. After that, it was clear that Olivier returning meant there was even less room for him.

In their next game against Dortmund, they had won, and he’d even gotten to touch the pitch, but his role in the game was minimal at best by his standards. He barely stayed to be interviewed. He didn’t get the same sense of fulfillment that he used to, and he didn’t want it to show on the cameras. He felt foolish to be receiving attention when he did nothing compared to his other teammates.

And, he was receiving a lot of attention after the media turned their attention onto his lack of playing time. It seemed everyone had an opinion about what he should do about his predicament. Most thought it best if he left.

Even Jogi told him that he needed to reconsider his situation at Arsenal. It was a damning statement.

But, leaving wasn’t as obvious for him as everyone seemed to think. He was still under contract. And, even if he wasn’t, where would he go?

Disregarding the logistics of the move, he’d be leaving behind by transferring as well, like Mesut and Per. Particularly Per. With him retiring from the national team, if Lukas left, their friendship wouldn’t be the same, and they both knew it. He was already visiting less often ever since Lukas had moved.

During their now regular late night conversations, after much swearing and derogatory remarks made at Wenger’s expense, Bastian implied that he also thought it best if Lukas left. Though not in so many words, Bastian told him that his career was stalling at Arsenal and might even die there. This included his career at the national level as well.

“Wolfsburg talked to your manager, right?”

“Yeah, but… it’s just talking, Basti. You know how these things go.”

“It’s still something. _Anything_ to get you out of there… I mean, if you wanted to. It’s your choice,” Bastian said, backtracking.

Ever since he mentioned to Bastian about Wolfsburg potentially expressing interest in him, Bastian had been losing his impartiality, gaining hope that he’d return to the Bundesliga. Hoping that he’d return home to Bastian perhaps. It wasn’t an idea that he hadn’t considered himself.

A knock on his door pulled him from his conversation with Bastian, and he bade Bastian goodnight, hearing Per’s voice calling to him. There was a sense of urgency there, and Bastian understood even without Lukas’ explanation.

.

Per moved quickly, making sure to check his facts before confronting him. The articles hid nothing. Lukas himself was quoted. Still, there was a chance.

The doorknob moved, and Per immediately pushed his way in, hating the sight of the unfamiliar door.

“They asked me about you today after the game. After you left. In my interview. They told me—Is it true? About Wolfsburg?”

He had a brave face on, but he was sure Lukas could see right through the façade. He was hurt, and Lukas should know that it was because of him that he was hurt.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hellos, everyone. I hope you’re all feeling the holiday spirit regardless of what you celebrate or don’t celebrate, I just hope you’re happy and having a lovely time. Thank you for taking the time to read my stories and know that I really appreciate it. ^^ Feel free to send a message to my tumblr if you feel like chatting about schweinski or just anything.  
> Also, I keep picking on Kevin, and I’m sooo sorry haha. I really love him. <3 The silly filly.  
> Fun fact: This was not how the chapter was supposed to go, but their real life drama. D: Could not ignore it. So that’s been pushed back to maybe never, and real life is so much more unpredictable than this story. Update: Real life apparently ships them equally as hard… what is going on?
> 
> Update: Shoooot. I just realized Marco should still be out. Frick. Add this onto my list of continuity things to fix. /sighs.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Read at your own risk. I haven't even read through this again even once because it's ridiculously late/early at night/in the morning. I’m kind of eh about this chapter and will likely revise it in a few days until I’m at least close to being satisfied, but I need to go on a road trip for a few days. So, sorry. I made an executive decision and chose to update first and then edit and think about consequences later. Sound for this one… um… silence, except for the ticking of my clock reminding me that I should probably sleep. Or, I guess, the Lukas Podolski song. Ha… >:D

**State of the Union**

.

They stood in Lukas’ doorway, staring at each other.

Lukas’ mouth hung open as he processed what Per was asking him. Slowly, he invited him in, gesturing towards the couch.

.

Per resented each inch of the unfamiliar apartment, settling onto the couch but unsettled. He supposed the couch he was used to seeing was still at Lukas and Monika’s old apartment, or rather just Monika’s apartment now.

He hadn’t talked to Monika too much since Lukas moved out, but he’d seen her a few times in the hallways. He smiled and waved to her, trying to show her that he would still be her friend as well as Lukas’, whenever he saw her, and he took any reaction from her at all as a victory on his part.

She seemed to be going through the motions for the most part, buying groceries, taking care of Louis, and everything she did before, minus Lukas in her life. However, that was a step up from when she refused to come out of the apartment at all. Ulrike had spent many days over with Monika after Lukas moved out, and sometimes, on the days he assumed were particularly trying, she brought Louis back over to their apartment, leaving Monika to process alone.

For a while, he thought she was just waiting for Lukas to come back. He admitted that he thought Lukas might return as well even though he knew Lukas had no intention. He never mentioned anything to Per or gave any indication that he wanted to reconcile. And, he was sure, someone else factored in greatly on that decision. Then again, it seemed that Per was out of the loop for many things already. One more hardly made a difference.

“So, Wolfsburg?” He asked when Lukas set a bottle of beer down in front of him.

It wasn’t a brand he recognized. It made him wonder whether Lukas had started drinking. A sign of regret, perhaps. But, he didn’t join Per in drinking, so it was hard to tell. He added one more to the tally.

Lukas awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, taking a seat on the other end of the couch. He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, considering his question and calculating the proper response.

“They’re just rumors,” he answered finally.

“But, you’ve been contacted?”

“Not me… not really.”

“But, they’re interested.”

He insisted, “Nothing’s been said.”

“Poldi! For fuck’s sake. Can you answer me properly?”

Lukas dropped his head into his hands, pressing his palms to his forehead. “I don’t know! I really don’t. I’d tell you. You know I’d tell you!”

“Do I? Do I really?” He pursed his lips, fisting his hands against the coarse material of his pants.

Blinking at him, he responded, “Of course.”

Per tried to force some calm into himself and instead clasped his hands together. “Then why don’t I know anything about what’s going on with you right now?”

He took a deep breath and straightened his back, asking, “What do you mean?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know anything anymore, Poldi.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Do you want to transfer?”

“… It’s better if I do. You know it, too.”

Per nodded with little else to add. Per tried to support him as best he could, arguing on his behalf countless times. He was probably prouder than Lukas’ parents whenever he lit up the pitch. But, Lukas didn’t think to share this with him. All Per had known before the rumors reached his ears was that Lukas was dissatisfied with his situation at Arsenal, but there were few who didn’t know that. The thought of Lukas leaving hadn’t even registered for him. Lukas had only ever stayed firm, telling Per that he loved London, Arsenal, and the time he spent there, carving out a new life for himself.

“Sorry for not telling you. If something else comes up, then I promise to tell you.”

He wordlessly nodded yet again. “Thanks, Poldi.”

He hesitated, “It’s not like—I… I’m still trying to work things out with Wenger, you know.”

“Okay,” he uttered, careful not to raise his hopes up too much.

“Anything… else… you wanted to know about?”

It sounded like a leading question. It was as if Lukas wanted him to ask a particular question, wanted to share, but Per’s mind was jumbled with thoughts of Lukas transferring. He shook his head, worsening the mess in his head. “I liked playing with you, Lukas.”

“We’re still playing together…”

He left, body automatically taking him to the door adjacent to his, only realizing when the key didn’t turn that he didn’t live there. He might as well be gone already.

.

When he led Per out, he caught sight of Per approaching his neighbor’s door but didn’t say anything. Instead, he shut the door as quickly as possible and redialed Bastian, who picked up immediately.

“Hey, how was Per? Thought you two would stay up talking the _entire_ night. _Again_.”

“He heard about Wolfsburg,” he answered, thinking about how Per had called him ‘Lukas.’ His given name sounded so foreign and cold from his lips.

“So?”

“He wasn’t happy I didn’t tell him about it.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve wanted to stay for so long, Basti. Months. But, I can’t if they keep benching me. I… don’t want to.” He had only a few _good_ years left in him. He couldn’t spend it on the bench… not again. “I shouldn’t have to go through this again.”

“… I’m sorry, Luki…”

Lukas heard a loud bang from Bastian’s side. “What was that?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry, Luki,” he repeated, muffled from whatever he was doing on the other end.

“It’s not your fault. It’s not like you could do anything about it.”

“Well… I am captain on the national team now.”

“Basti,” he said in admonishment, not liking what Bastian was implying, whether jokingly or not. “Don’t.”

“Wasn’t gonna… So… what now then?”

Lukas shrugged, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Wait for the transfer window?”

.

After wishing Lukas a good night, Bastian leapt immediately towards his kitchen, grabbing ice for his hand. He hadn’t quite realized how hard his walls were.

He had never felt more useless in his life.

.

Per grinned like a fool when the team found out the starting eleven against Galatasaray. He thought Wenger was finally going to deliver on his long overdue promises. Their arrival into the next stage of the Champions League was already guaranteed, but it was something.

Beside him, he could feel Lukas practically vibrate with an excitement and the need to prove himself.

.

Standing in the tunnel for just the second time that season, Lukas bounced on the balls of his feet, fidgeting and trying to get rid of his nervous energy. He stretched out his arms, legs, fingers, toes.

His mentality was set on scoring and proving to the naysayers that he was still in top form. This was where he deserved to be.

The adrenaline itched under his skin, pounding with each beat of his heart.

From the moment he walked out of the tunnel, everything moved quickly. His memory filled with only snapshots set to a silent soundtrack.

Then one, two, three. The crowd erupted. They screamed _his_ name. And, it felt like this stadium was his home again.

They said he’d scored in less than three minutes.

Looking around the pitch, he searched for one person as he made his victory lap. The one who believed in him more than perhaps even himself.

Per had a mixture of both relief and amazement on his face, and he clutched Lukas’ face before pulling him in for a hug.

Lukas was sure that Per was the only one on the pitch who understood what the goal really meant for him. For the two of them, it symbolized all the good things that was promised to come to Lukas. Surely, after their explosive start, Wenger had to see and appreciate everything that Lukas had come to develop into as a player.

He almost expected to be subbed off the field at half time. He expected to be subbed off at eighty minutes.

Then three, two, one. The crowd broke out in the sweetest song of victory. They cheered for _him_. His name was on their lips once more. _Lukas Podolski_.

.

After his own match against CSKA Moscow, Bastian finally had the time to call Lukas. But, he barely voiced a few words of congratulations before someone else had rudely and presumably yanked the phone from Lukas, telling ‘whoever it was’ that Lukas was busy and would call them later.

Bastian recognized the voice as Alexis Sanchez, one of Lukas’ teammates who Lukas spoke highly of. Bastian liked him less and less. They never met in person, but he’d seen him talk from post-match interviews.

How dare _he_ tell _Bastian_ that Lukas would call him later? Who did Sanchez think he was talking to? He was Lukas’ boyfriend for God’s sake. And, while Lukas had avoided using the ‘love’ word around him, he was accepting and receptive towards Bastian’s own declarations.

Bastian let his head hit his pillow as he threw himself onto his bed in exhaustion.

He was tired and sore and only wanted to talk to Lukas before he completely blacked out from exhaustion, and he couldn’t even do that. He’d been wanting the entire day to talk to Lukas, getting live updates on his phone until Pep had taken it away just as Lukas headed into halftime.

Rethinking his plan of wallowing in his bed alone, Bastian dragged himself out of bed to change the ice pack for his knee.

He let out a sigh through clenched teeth as he pressed the new pack against his skin. He was almost grateful that Lukas at least was most likely too busy with celebrations to see his match. It meant that he had missed Bastian’s foul. With a tinge of bitter resentment, Bastian hoped his teammates would keep him distracted until his performance and the entire game against Moscow became old news.

It was nothing, he told himself, gritting his teeth and settling back into his bed. The rivulets of condensed vapor dripped down his knee. He hoped it was nothing.

.

He came, he saw, he conquered, they’d say. Or, they should. His goals were like bookends, neatly sandwiching the rest of the game in between; he opened and closed. Gave them something to talk about until the next game.

But only it wasn’t enough, he figured indignantly. Lukas pursed his lips, still stunned as he sat on the all too familiar bench, watching his teammates play. He wondered momentarily if he should just stop being surprised at that point. He wondered if anyone would notice if he just walked out now. Out of the stadium, out of the club, out of London.

Getting subbed in earlier than usual when they were leading was no consolation for him. If anything, it rubbed salt into his freshly reopened wounds.

On the pitch, he felt as if he were watching someone else play rather than playing himself. He supposed he’d gotten more than enough time to get used to that particular feeling, and it stuck. His heart wasn’t into it at all, and he was sure it showed. He was also sure that he didn’t give one single fuck.

If playing well didn’t improve his value in Wenger’s eyes, then he really had no idea what other options he had left. If anything he did would change his opinion. The frustration hummed through his body and worked its way out, manifesting as physical aggression on the pitch.

After the match, he left the dressing room early in an attempt to skip every post-match item on their agenda.

Per caught up to him as he closed the door behind him.

There weren’t any words spoken between the two, just a shared disappointment.

Then, he left.

.

On the bench once more, Lukas had time to think. He wasn’t too surprised to be left off completely during their draw against Stoke City.

Watching the entire match, he wasn’t even sure if he could’ve done anything to prevent the draw even if he _was_ given the chance.

There had to have been a reason why Wenger didn’t want him playing after all. He thought he’d improved defensively, but maybe it wasn’t enough with their heavily crippled defense. And, while Galatasaray wasn’t a team to scoff at, they were the favorites to win. It was just a matter of who’d get to play and score.

He skipped those post-match interviews as well.

.

Bastian wasn’t surprised to get a call later that night. In fact, he had begged off going out with his older brother, citing that he was expecting a very important call that night. After false promises of an explanation to come later, Tobias only gave him the barest of grief for flaking on him.

When his phone vibrated, he answered it on the first ring, reciting his prepared greeting, “They don’t deserve you. They never deserved you. They don’t see you how I see you. They don’t see everything that you’re capable of accomplishing. You’re amazing. You’re wonderful. And, I love you.” He took a deep breath as he finished.

The pause at the other end of the line troubled him. The markedly feminine laughter that came through made him regret not taking that one second to doublecheck the caller ID.

“Sarah,” he guessed.

“Oh, my God,” she gasped through her fits of laughter. “Is that how you greet _everyone_? Or am I just special? Where was this when we were dating?”

Mumbling, he explained, “I thought you were someone else.”

“Story of my life,” she mused. “I assume you mean Lukas. I hope you mean Lukas. If not, then shall I start up a support group for scorned women who’ve suffered at your hands? I’d make an exception for Lukas. I wouldn’t be the only one,” she remarked slyly, voice laced with unspoken insinuations.

He could only repeat, “Sarah…”

“I know. I know,” she sighed, bestowing mercy. “I just wanted to check up on you. Your knee’s okay now, right? You don’t need me to do anything else? Need me to take care of you again?”

“No, it’s good now. Thanks.”

“Uh-huh. No problem. Did you tell Lukas like we discussed?”

Bastian pulled a face, recalling the promise he made in exchange for Sarah not sending Lukas pictures of him wrapped in a pink towel after Sarah helped him bathe. “No…”

“He deserves to know, Basti.”

“You’re beginning to sound like my mother.”

“And, now I know why we didn’t work out. Gross. Or… kinky?” In a more serious tone, she carried on, “You said it wasn’t anything serious. There should be no problem in telling him. It’s just so he doesn’t hear it from anyone else and freak out. You know, like last time,” she reminded, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll do it… soon,” he assured her.

“Bastian.”

“You don’t know how much stress he’s under, Sar.”

“I have some idea. It’s splashed all over the papers. Well, not exactly. But, there’s the nasty jab here and there. Blah, blah, blah. It’s awful.”

“Exactly. So, you _definitely_ know that I can’t add to that.”

“He won’t hate you for it,” she tried.

“I’ll hate myself. He doesn’t need to hear more bad news.”

“But, it’s not bad news! Unless… you’re hiding something from me.”

“Sarah.”

“Mhmm. Well,” she sighed again; she was prone to sighing when she talked to Bastian. “I guess that’s up to you. Anyway, so I told you about that guy last time, and—”

Suddenly, his phone beeped, signaling another call holding. Sarah seemed to hear it, too.

With yet another sigh, she stated, “—And I’m going to assume that’s Lukas?”

He gripped his phone guiltily. “Yeah… Sorry, Sarah.”

“It’s fine. I’ll just keep this juicy story under my hat. Don’t die from anticipation, Basti. Talk to you later. Bye.”

She hung up immediately, not even giving him time to respond. He knew she wasn’t mad since she was one of the few people who knew about his relationship with Lukas, but he couldn’t help but feel bad for prioritizing Lukas over her time and time again.

Taking another deep breath, he recalled his previously recited speech, editing it for brevity, “You deserve the best and only the best.”

“Thanks, Basti…”

He relaxed at the sound of the familiar voice. However, it sounded thick to his ears, like he was holding back his emotion but would break at the slightest provocation.

“But, do you mind if we just talk about something other than my shit life right now?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“ _Anything_.”

“Well…,” he said eagerly. Bastian only had to briefly search his mind for something else to talk about. “Do you want your surprise ruined now or later?”

Catching his excitement, he asked, “You planned another surprise for me?”

“Kind of… It’s half a surprise since you probably already expected—”

He cut him off and instantly demanded, “Tell me!”

Bastian smiled, grateful that he was able to cheer him up. “I know you don’t get a Christmas break, but _I_ have a few weeks off. So, I was wondering if—”

Impatiently, Lukas blurted, “You’re coming to visit! When?” His previous melancholy had been completely displaced.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. The corners of his eye crinkled in amusement. “Tomorrow, actually. If you don’t mind...”

“No…,” he replied softly. “That sounds perfect. Exactly what I need right now.”

“Then, you won’t mind that that’s all you get to know about from your surprise,” he teased cheekily, baiting Lukas.

Lukas jerked out of his contented state back into a frenzy. “Wait. What? There’s _more_?!”

He smugly grinned, “Yep. But, my lips are sealed, Luki. You’ll have to wait.”

“But I’ll be good.”

“Saint Nick will be happy to hear that, but that doesn’t do anything for me.”

Furtively, Lukas suggested, “And, what if I promise to be bad? That do anything for you?”

“You… aren’t playing fair.”

“That’s because bad boys don’t play fair. It’s kind of our thing.”

.

Lukas waited for Bastian in the carport. After the last time, Bastian figured it’d be less conspicuous if Bastian just met him at his car.

Without incident, Bastian dropped his luggage into the trunk, glad things were going so smoothly. He slid into the passenger seat and casually gave him a onceover. They’d been apart for far too long.

Lukas had opted for a simple jeans and sweater combination, but Bastian thought he looked particularly tasty. It probably had something to do with not having seen Lukas in person for longer than he would’ve preferred rather than how well the clothes suited him.

Finally ready to greet him, he felt Lukas’ tongue slide into his pliant mouth, forcing him to swallow his words. Pulling back almost as abruptly, he pressed another kiss to Bastian’s mouth before leaving tire marks in the parking lot.

.

“Did something happen?” Bastian asked, content in Lukas’ bed.

He had wrapped himself up in Lukas’ blankets, not bothering to redress himself. Only the top of his head and eyes showed. He hadn’t minded that they ended up in his bed, he just had a feeling the reason how they got there was important.

As silence fell around them, Bastian almost dropped the entire subject, thinking that he would only add to Lukas’ grief by bringing whatever was troubling him back up again.

“It’s Monika,” he announced suddenly, startling Bastian.

“Uh-huh… I thought you said she was more used to the idea of the divorce now.”

“No, I mean yes. But, not that. She wants to take Louis to her parents’ this year. For Christmas. Without me.”

It was Bastian’s turn to fall silent. He didn’t know what to say. He’d never been in that position before. And, he knew how important family was to him, how important _Louis_ was to him. He turned to lie on his back and stared at the ceiling. He contemplated his worthiness in that moment, and he felt like he wasn’t worth the trade. Louis or him. Louis for him. He just couldn’t compare.

Dumbly, he asked, “When did she tell you?”

“This morning.”

Bastian was helplessly speechless, and the two stayed in silence until Lukas finally said, “Thanks for coming, Basti.”

He then buried his face into the crook of Bastian’s neck. Bastian felt something wet against his skin, but he only pulled Lukas closer.

Bastian felt guilty and useless all at once, the weight of these two emotions increasing tenfold within the span of seconds.

But, above all else, he felt shameless.

Because, even now, he was relieved that Lukas still chose him.

.

Sitting across from her soon to be ex-husband with their child between them, Monika had another difficult decision to make.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry. That’s all we get from Monika until next chapter. Kay. Later, nerds. I’m off to Vegas. Jk. Ily guys. D: And will miss you. (Save me. I hate leaving my house. It’s so tiring…) [/hums: it’s a quarter after one and I’m all alone and I need you now… I kid. It’s close to 4am. Oh when will I get my priorities properly organized.]


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I was really excited to write this chapter because I really don’t want to make it unfair for Monika, but then it took me six hours to reread the previous chapters, and I was just thinking, so many typos and points to fix… So, I was tired by the time I got to actually writing this chapter. … I only skimmed towards the end, too. Why do you guys let me get away with some things?? D: I jk. Ily. <3 This chapter is Monika-centric. If you’d like a soundtrack, I wrote this while listening to mostly Travis Garland. … Probably not the best background music though haha.

**State of the Union**

.

Monika liked her privacy. She liked her quiet life. It was hard when Lukas was such a celebrated figure, but she knew who he was before she married him—before she _had a child with him—_ and prided herself on being able to keep a low profile despite his popularity.

She didn’t seek the spotlight like the others. She purposefully shunned it. Contrary to what some people might say, it wasn’t that she looked down on the others who liked to have their pictures taken or sold; that type of lifestyle just wasn’t for her.

She learned that early on.

What Monika didn’t enjoy was being afraid to leave her own home for fear of meeting those foul _vultures_ that seemed determined to catch her in tears. But, her fear didn’t stop her from leaving completely.

As long as there were things to be done, she did them.

With Louis’ small hand grasped in hers, she stepped out of their home in a bit of a routine. Large sunglasses framed her face as her boots hit the pavement. Louis fiddled with his hat beside her; it was one of the custom made Aha! hats Lukas had made especially for Louis. She would have preferred he wear another hat, but she didn’t say anything when he chose it every time.

She had a feeling it was how he was coping with Lukas’ marked absence. Even during the worse times when Lukas had to travel for matches, he had seen Lukas more than he did now.

Not only that, he had even less chance of seeing his father in the coming days. Monika had only just told him that they’d be spending Christmas in Poland without Lukas. He seemed to take it well, but that same lack of response—seeming resignation—worried Monika. It gnawed away at her, and she felt sick, tightening her hold on his little hand.

Louis looked up at her, and she gave him an uneasy smile. He squinted back up at her in response before tugging his hand from hers and looking out towards the streets to the few cars that passed them by.

Her chest heaved to work against the heavy pressure on it. She shifted her bag on her other shoulder but allowed her hand to hang at her side, free should Louis want it.

She tried to keep her mind on her errands for the day.

Since they were going back to Poland for the holidays, she figured it was time to get Louis some new winter clothing as well as souvenirs for her relatives. It was a trip they made often enough, more in the past year or so than before, but Louis was growing so big so fast, he had already outgrown the set she and Lukas bought for him the year prior.

Her eyes were trained on Louis as he skipped three steps ahead of her before pausing to allow her to catch up and then resumed skipping ahead again, repeating the process. She pretended not to notice how he seemed to keep just out of reach. She pretended that she wasn't held together by worn twine, tied and retied where there had been breaks. She wished she had taken Ulrike up on her offer to accompany them. Louis liked Ulrike, who told him exciting anecdotes she’d picked up from when she went on her tournaments.

Watching Louis listen to her speak with rapt attention somewhat stung for Monika, who had chosen the career of a humble beautician. She didn’t think he’d find her stories of how she had mistaken one bottle of dye for another and almost dyed a customer’s hair caramel instead of a honeyed brown too interesting.

Lukas always had interesting stories as well. When he left Louis, he’d always make up for it by bringing back plenty of stories. He was a wonderful storyteller, always so animated, whether they be appropriate bedtime stories or not. It was one of the reasons she had fallen in love with Lukas. While Monika shied away from attention directed towards herself, she had been absorbed by Lukas’ own magnetic nature. It was a wonder Lukas even noticed her amongst the hoard of other girls, who vied for his attention—who _still_ vie for his attention.

She wondered what Lukas was doing now. Was it story worthy? Would she hear about it later from Louis? She definitely wouldn’t be hearing them from him, that was certain enough. He might offer, but she wouldn’t accept. It’d be too hard not to realize that she still loved him.

There was an ever present sense of guilt that grew and waned whenever she thought to pay attention to it. It throbbed to know that Lukas had given up Louis so easily. She knew it was his way of repenting, his way of making it up to her. She would’ve scoffed at the pitiful attempt if she didn’t know how much it had to have hurt for him to do so. She remembered the way she heard his breath audibly catch when she asked over the phone—because she was too much of a coward to _not_ call him—before he acquiesced to her request. Perhaps, she could have done something other than hang up afterward, but what was done was done.

She stopped reflexively, hearing a voice from behind calling her, but she didn’t turn back. Louis did, though, and she ushered him forward.

They’d get nothing from her. There would be no pictures today, she vowed, no ill words from her about her husband. She wouldn’t let them paint her as bitter when she just wasn’t. She swallowed the bitterness when she convinced herself that Lukas had made a mature decision to want to split up. It was something she had to remind herself on more than one occasion.

“Go on, darling. Ignore them,” she said, prodding him forward.

Louis was no longer skipping ahead, but he did continue walking as she told him to, curiously craning his neck to see who was calling for his mother.

She heard his footsteps quicken and went to grab Louis to make their escape, but the man had caught up and blocked their path.

Slightly wheezing, he shoved some pictures in her face and asked, “Is it true that Lukas Podolski cheated on you with Bastian Schweinsteiger? Is he divorcing you to be with Schweinsteiger? These pictures—”

“Uncle Basti?” Louis piped up suddenly from between them.

He tried to pull the photos down to see, but Monika snatched them for herself, glaring at the man, who appeared not to have come alone. They appeared one after the other, eventually swarming her and Louis. They asked her about the same pictures, about the same thing. Different angles, different words, but it was the same thing, one after the other. Monika wanted to scream, but she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

She tucked Louis to her, covering his ears, and tugged his cap further down to protect him.

The cameras continued flashing, and she continued fighting through the crowd. It wasn’t until Louis had stumbled and scraped his knee after an unscrupulous _man_ shoved him out to get to Monika that Monika stopped trying to get away.

Very calmly, Monika knelt down to Louis. She kissed his injury free from pain and deftly bandaged him before picking him up. He buried his face into her neck, and she felt the wet tears that slid down his face, slid down her own skin.

With deliberate disdain, she took off her sunglasses and narrowed her eyes at the oaf who hurt her son before addressing everyone in the small mob. Yawning, she mocked them. And with a cruel smile she reserved for those interviewers who made passes at her husband on TV where their son could see, she remarked, “ _Thank you_ for showing me these. I can finally relax easy knowing that he did in fact pick him up from the airport like he said he would. Really, just _thank you_ for that.”

Someone in the faceless crowd asked, “You _knew_ about this?”

“Knew?” She laughed haughtily, tilting her head at them. “Oh, honey. I invited him.”

Feeling Louis sniffle, she sent another withering stare at them all and turned sharply to walk away as they cleared a path for her. She kept her sunglasses in her bag, moving on while leaving them behind.

.

There was a polite but insistent knocking at their door. Lukas hadn’t told him to expect any visitors, so Bastian tread carefully as he slipped out of bed. While it wasn’t an unholy hour, it was supposed to be a lazy Sunday for them both. Any time before noon would be too early.

Lukas mumbled his name, but he hushed him with a gentle kiss and reassurances that he’d be back soon. Sighing, Lukas pulled the blankets closer around him and turned before falling back asleep, most likely soon forgetting what had just transpired.

Running a hand through his hair, he pulled on a shirt he found on the floor and a pair of Lukas’ comfy sweatpants. His feet padded along the cold floor of Lukas’ apartment. He hoped he could somehow just shoo away whoever was at the front door quickly so he could return to bed and return to Lukas.

The pounding didn’t stop as he got closer, and he curiously looked through the peephole. He checked and checked again to make sure, but each time he saw the same two. Monika and Louis. Wordlessly, he swore, his panic making him dumb.

He lowered his voice in imitation of Lukas’ and hoped she wouldn’t notice. “Hold on a minute. I’m—uh—I’m busy—busy drying my hair.”

Wincing, he remembered that Lukas’ hair needed so such thing, neatly shorn as it was. In mid flight, he skidded to a halt when he heard a voice call him by his name.

“Bastian? We’re here for breakfast! Louis is going to get cranky without his Uncle Basti’s pancakes,” she happily chirped out. In a voice Bastian caught only as he reapproached the door in confusion, Monika whispered, “I know you’re in there, Bastian. It’s fine. Just open up. We have to talk. All of us. It’s important.”

.

Lukas tossed and turned restlessly before pinpointing what had made him unsettled. His personal heater wasn’t back yet. Pushing himself up, he went to haul his wayward boyfriend back to bed and perhaps teach him the importance of keeping promises.

The scent of butter and cinnamon hung in the air, accompanying the sizzling of something hot in his kitchen. He hummed to himself in contentedness. Bastian must have been making him pancakes.

Lazily, he traipsed over to Bastian, who had his back against him, intent on not burning the pancakes. Lukas wasn’t an unmovable man. They’d _both_ enjoy the lesson plan he had in mind.

He snaked his arms around Bastian’s waist. Feeling him tense, he kissed the back of his neck. He rested his chin on his shoulders as he stood on his toes to what shapes Bastian was making for the pancakes.

“Well, that clears that up.”

Lukas jumped back, knocking over plates and a bowl full of batter, swearing as he went down. He heard a familiar giggle from the same area and looked up at Bastian, as if in accusation.

Bastian gave him a weak smile. “Monika and Louis came to visit.”

“We’re having pancakes, daddy!” Louis shouted, still giggling at his father’s antics.

“Uh… Well, _someone_ ’s having pancakes, kiddo,” Bastian corrected, looking warily from Monika to Lukas. “Your dad knocked over my batter, and I only have enough for one.”

Speaking again, Monika interjected, “I’m not hungry, but I bet Louis would really love to eat your pancakes again, Bastian. He’s never satisfied with mine. I can’t even make _waffles_ without him comparing them to yours…” She cleared her throat and refocused her eyes onto Louis. “Isn’t that right, darling? Would you like to eat Uncle Basti’s pancakes?”

“Yes!”

“Coming right up,” Bastian complied.

Lukas was fascinated at how Bastian was handling the entire situation while he sat in the batter, mortified by the turn of events.

Coming back to the kitchen after handing off the pancakes, Bastian knelt down, away from view, and kissed Lukas’ mouth closed.

“Come on, Poldi. Shower and change. Monika says she needs to talk to you.”

.

The shower ran loudly through the apartment. The scraping of fork and knife against ceramic plate punctuated the overarching silence.

Bastian sat as far away from Monika as possible with his hands in his lap. He felt like the other woman, which wasn’t too far from the truth.

Keeping his breathing steady, he worked up the nerve to say _something_ , but he didn’t know what to say. Asking her how she was doing seemed flippant. An apology somehow seemed worse, especially if he wasn’t sorry about being with Lukas. He was sorry about the situation, but he would never be sorry about his relationship with Lukas. Perhaps he should apologize for that.

“I—,” he began before Louis’ words drowned out his own.

“Look, mommy! This one looks like a goldfish!”

His heart jackhammered with the release of adrenaline, unsatisfied by the anticlimactic results. His lips twisted into a smile for him, voice lost once more.

He wiped his sweaty palms against the cotton material of his sweats, struggling to keep composed. After all the opponents he faced with cool determination, all of the players who would become legends when they retired, he found it ridiculous to be nervous now.

Monika fixed her eyes on him curiously, looking at him like she would look at an animal through glass casing. She must have heard him, and he felt like he had to explain.

“I—,” he began again. But again, he was interrupted. He swore under his breath, but Monika missed it. Her attention elsewhere.

“What did you want to talk about?”

Lukas came out in sweats and a shirt, his hair slightly still wet, moisture making his forehead glisten. He had skipped shaving, leaving dark stubble. Bastian swallowed thickly. There was a time and a place, and this wasn’t it.

He had taken a seat next to him, and Bastian wanted to call him an idiot for doing something so provoking. Instead, all he could do was silently die as he Lukas’ scent made its way to him. Shifting nervously in his seat, he hoped no one could read his thoughts that were surely written disgracefully on his face.

“So, you two…,” she trailed off, glancing pointedly at Louis, who was absorbed in his own world of fluffy pancakes and sticky syrup.

He stared at his hands. Too many thoughts. All the words he wanted to say—could say—were caught in his throat, and it was just as bad as not knowing what to say.

Suddenly, he felt a comforting pressure on his knee, making its way up to his thigh before settling in his lap, clasping his hand. He lifted his head a fraction to see Lukas looking back at him, concerned.

“Yeah, us two,” Lukas answered.

.

Sitting across from her soon to be ex-husband with their child between them, Monika had another difficult decision to make.

There were plenty of things she could do. She could throw a fit. She could storm out. She could punch Lukas in his fucking face for making her feel like she was an intruder, interrupting one of the most intimate scenes she’d ever seen when all she had were good intention in the first place. It had been a messy, slippery slide down from the moment Lukas walked out of the damn bedroom she was sure he and Bastian had christened the night before.

What she wanted to do was throw up. Throw up all of her emotions. Get rid of them completely and hope they never returned.

She could do so many things, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. She couldn’t be spiteful. She couldn’t turn away and _not_ warn them. She couldn’t sell their story and damn them to hell because she couldn’t stop caring either

After everything the _both_ of them did to her, put her through, she cared. And, it wasn’t fair.

.

“Of course,” she nodded, looking down at her hands in the same manner that Bastian had.

“Are what, daddy?”

Caught off guard, Lukas let out a sound of surprise. “Uh…”

Louis, who had been paying more attention than they had thought, explained, “Mommy said you and Uncle Basti are… are what?”

Quickly, Monika took Louis’ mostly eaten plate in hand.

“Wait, mommy. I’m not done yet.”

“I know, honey, I just think you’d have more fun eating in daddy’s room. He can eat in your room, can’t he?” She asked nervously. “There’s nothing… wrong?”

Reddening, Lukas mumbled, “Yeah. It’s fine.”

“Great. So, you can finish up in daddy’s room. I’m sure he has lots of games to choose from.”

“Okay!”

“Bastian?”

Bastian choked up at the sound of his name, the mashup of broken words and unfinished thoughts tumbling out in a coughing fit.

“Uh, are you alright?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Well, why don’t you show him where the games are, and maybe play a few with him?”

He looked to Lukas, who squeezed his hand reassuringly and left, trailing behind an overeager Louis. He was relieved to have left but also indignant. Whatever she had to say to Lukas would obviously affect him; he should hear it, too.

When he closed the door, Louis asked, “Mommy and daddy are going to fight again, aren’t they?”

“I don’t know,” Bastian lied as he set up the games.

“I miss daddy. I miss when we were all still together. Like before.”

Unable to sit any longer, listening to Louis’ confessions that chipped away at him, Bastian put the controller down that he had just picked up. “Here, you play first, and I’ll make sure they won’t fight. Okay?”

“Kay,” Louis replied, settling in front of the television set.

As soon as Louis had his back turned, Bastian’s face contorted with a controlled outpouring of guilt. He bit his knuckle in anguish and closed the door behind him.

Stepping into the hallway, he saw Monika turned attentively towards Lukas, and Lukas mirrored her.

Bastian almost didn’t want to interrupt the obvious moment they were having, but there was a very real part of him that did, maliciously so.

That was until he heard them continue speaking. He hung back to eavesdrop.

.

“Those _people_ had pictures, Lukas,” she hissed, getting straight to the point. “Of you and Bastian.”

Lukas straightened his back before sighing, “What kind of pictures?”

“Nothing incriminating,” she admitted. “But, they were of you two at the airport. _Holding hands_. One of them even looked like you were kissing him.” Seeing Lukas grimace, she cleared her throat and tracked back, “I see. One of them _was_ of you kissing him… You two have to be more careful. You already know what they think.”

“I know…”

“This will make it look even worse.”

Stressed, he repeated roughly, “I _know_.”

“You told me there was nothing between you and him.”

“There wasn’t.”

“Well, there is now.”

“ _Now_. There wasn’t before. I swear.”

“You’re telling me this just _happened_?” She asked, vitriol evident. “Practically a day after I tell you I’m leaving, he just _happens_ to want to visit London? It’s all a coincidence?”

“ _Yes_. I didn’t plan any of this. He wanted to surprise me. He didn’t know you were leaving until I told him. _After_ he was already coming here. _After_ you told me.”

“That’s really fortunate for you, Lukas. For the both of you.”

“Nothing happened before we decided to split up,” he defended.

“Before _you_ decided,” she fixed.

“Moni, we’ve been over this. He had nothing to do with our divorce.”

“Do you swear?”

“I swear.”

She shook her head and laughed, a hollow quality sounding in the echoes. “It’s too bad. Your words don’t mean as much to me anymore.”

“What did you come here for, Moni? To help?” He paused before smirking at her. “Or to show me what I’m not missing?”

Stunned, Monika blinked at him, almost affronted by his audacity, but perhaps she had prodded a bit too hard. She could push only saw far until he pushed back, even if his guilt worked in her favor. She tried to cut him with her words, and he cut back.

“I’m sorry,” she said, swallowing the other directionless replies.

He ran his hand across his face. His posture was that of man who didn’t want to fight. “I’m sorry, too. You know I didn’t mean it.”

She nodded silently.

“Thank you for telling me. I mean it.”

They sat in poignant silence, loaded with so many pitfalls to maneuver.

.

Cautiously, she treaded. “What are you going to do?”

“What can I do?”

“Stop them from releasing the pictures. You could—”

“Since when have we been able to stop the before, Moni?”

“True. They are the worst kind of pests.”

“We’ll just ride it through like we always do.”

“It’s none of my business,” she prefaced, hesitation in every word. “But, perhaps you should consider just letting everyone know. Or letting the important people know first?”

“I would’ve told you eventually, Monika.”

“That’s not what I was getting at but good to know I rank so high on your list of things to eventually do.” Lips pursed, she apologized again, “Sorry… It’s not… easy… I don’t even know why I’m still here. I just—”

“Because you’re a wonderful person,” he began tenderly. “Who I was lucky to have for as long as I did… and, I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry what _I_ did hurt you,” he paused, collecting his thoughts. “And, I’m sorry you had to find out this way. But, I’m not sorry about _him_.”

She shared a glance with him and gave him tired quirk of her lips, almost resigned to the honesty of his words.

.

Lukas had been toying with the idea of _considering_ to approach Bastian with the potential of the both of them making their relationship public, but it never went more than that.

Mainly, there was the threat that they’d be dismantling the careers they’ve both worked so hard to build up for most of their lives.

People like Thomas Hitzlsperger, who came out _after_ they retired, weren’t held to the same standards as those who hadn’t retired yet. They’d be subject to public scrutiny like so many others. Lukas was sure of it.

It wouldn’t be the same, he told himself. He couldn’t put them at risk like that, especially not Bastian, who had sacrificed so much. He gambled and almost put his entire future career in jeopardy for the title of Weltmeister. He put his body at risk. His _health_. His love for the game. There was no way Lukas was going to ask Bastian to give that up for him.

He broke out in a thin smile. “I’ll think of something.”

.

“You should stay with her,” Bastian said.

His voice startled them both.

He fidgeted with both their attention directed at him. “You should pretend to stay with her.”

Bastian thought about everything these pictures could do to Lukas. They proved nothing, but they could ruin everything for Lukas.

He didn't want to scare off Lukas' prospects. The scandal and mess that these rumors would bring about during a time as important as the transfer window for Lukas might mean that Lukas’ international career would die at Arsenal.

He couldn’t let that happen.

“You need to stay with him.” He begged, “Please.”

.

A/N: I put up a brief playlist of music on my tumblr that I use when I write my fics. I also included some songs that a very sweet anon suggested to me. So, if you'd like, go to my [tumblr](http://fromyouraveragegirl.tumblr.com/) to check it out. You just need to press play. You can see the tracklist if you click the upper right button as well. ^^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: More and more I see places where I can fit the “other one” in. D: It’s becoming more real with each passing scene. Side note. This always seems to happen with me where the background characters just seem to get more depth and become more real than my main characters. :/ Someone tell me I’m wrong?? Ugh. I just really sympathize with Monika here. Anyway, at one point, I just have to say “fck it, I have hw to do” and throw a chapter at you guys. This is that chapter. Sorry…


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I think I just about died writing this chapter. It was an uphill battle, and I am just not about that struggle. In other news, I /really/ hope you guys enjoy this chapter. ^^ It was wrought with my blood and tears. So many tears. This ship and its shippers have such a weird relationship with angst right now haha. I… just… yeah. I had something else planned, but because of the upsurge in angst, here’s some fluff (mostly), alright, guys? I just can’t haha.

**State of the Union**

.

He stared at him for a beat. And then another. Finding his voice, he muttered his protest. “No.” He swallowed and repeated, “ _No_.”

“It’s pretending, Luki. Just until it’s okay.”

Remaining adamantly opposed, he said, “I still don’t like it.”

Bastian crossed his arms and challenged him. “Then what do you think we _can_ do?”

“Something— _anything_ else. We—you—this—just not this,” he stammered, stumbling over his words in his apprehension and gesturing helplessly. Bastian’s suggestion made him uneasy, and he wanted Bastian to take it back. Resolutely unsettled and wholly against the idea, Lukas argued something that should have been considered first and foremost, “It’s not fair to Monika.”

Bastian opened his mouth only to close it again before furrowing his eyebrows. His mouth slowly formed around his words as if even he didn’t completely believe what he saying. “It’s not completely _unfair_. It could help her, too.”

“How?” He demanded incredulously. He couldn’t see anything that Monika had to gain from a sham relationship with him.

Equally as quick as Lukas was to question, Bastian was prepared with an answer, one that made more and more sense when he thought about it, one that Lukas couldn’t deny would be beneficial. “The reporters,” he began. “The reporters are going to get more aggressive if they think we’re together. They’ll go after Monika _and_ Louis. But, if we prove that it’s nothing, then they’ll get bored and go away. And after that… we’ll figure it out after that, but it wouldn’t be her problem,” he concluded uncertainly, glancing back at Lukas.

“It’s a stupid idea. We should deal with it like we’ve always dealt with it. We ignore them. What’s the worse they can do anyway? They’ll release the pictures. So what? Do you remember Brazil at all, Basti?”

“Brazil was different! That was—that was on the pitch. These pictures are of us in private. They’ll never leave us alone! They’ll find more evidence. I don’t know. Who knows what they can find? We haven’t been careful, Luki. You already know what they thought of us before. It’ll be worse if we don’t do something to throw them off.” He crossed his arms tighter against his chest. “This is so we don’t have to always watch our backs.”

“You’re seriously suggesting a fake relationship,” he said flatly, holding his gaze.

“Well, you’re not suggesting much of anything else,” Bastian countered. “If they find something, and other people don’t like it… we have so much to lose, Luki.” He turned away from him. “What’s the harm in pretending if we get to protect the things we love?” His tongue slid oddly over the unfamiliar word.

It came out mumbled through his lips, but it rang clear enough to Lukas.

Turning to her, Lukas called out hoarsely in defeat, “Monika.” He repeated stubbornly, “I told you it wasn’t fair to her.”

Bastian let his arms drop to his sides. “She can make her own decisions.”

.

Monika, who hadn’t said a word during the exchange and scarcely breathed, was set aback with the sudden attention.

More so, she was caught off guard by the question. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been listening—she had been content to be a spectator and watch their exchange, absurdly fascinated by their dynamic—, it was that she couldn’t wrap her head around their situation.

All she wanted when she was younger was to have a normal life and a nice family of her own. She had neither. She pitied her younger self’s idealistic desires. Nothing was so simple in real life; that much was painfully obvious. It wasn’t simple for anyone. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be where she was now.

To the right of her, there was a man whom she had taken an oath to forever love, considering it her duty to serve him and to give herself up completely in order to make happy. For years, she devoted herself to him.

To the left of her was the man who had taken him away.

And these two men were asking her something so incredibly selfish, she was frankly impressed by their testicular fortitude.

It was the type of selfish request that only someone so in love would be able to make, and it made Monika uncomfortable. It made her want to hate because it was a lofty idea. A stupid, _stupid_ request that Monika wanted to hate because it made her want to crawl into herself and die from self-awareness. It was exactly the kind of grand gesture that Monika herself would have made were she in his position. Would have made for Lukas.

She had no memory for pain. That’s what she told herself.

She acknowledged it.

But, she couldn’t stop herself from agreeing anyway.

“I’ll help,” she told them.

She was equal parts shocked and not.

The parts that weren’t were working exclusively to rationalize her decision in an effort to protect her ego. A lot of work went into keeping herself firmly in denial. That she hadn’t already walked away and washed her hands clean of the entire situation showed her how little she had actually managed to move on from Lukas—from wanting to be part of his life—and how much further she needed to progress.

She didn’t want to acknowledge her weakness.

Instead, she found herself speaking more words that she didn’t really mean to but was compelled to say anyway. “If it keeps those people away from Louis, then I’ll do anything. I don’t want him being exploited by them. I don’t even want them to see him. It’s not his fault. He can’t help who his father is.”

She saw Lukas flinch, but he didn’t say anything in defense. It added to her growing guilt after already using her son as justification, but Monika tended to do things she otherwise wouldn’t when it came to Lukas.

She swallowed the guilt as she unsteadily held onto herself, reminding herself that it wasn’t just a cover up. She really did believe those things.

.

“So, when do we start?” Monika asked.

Bastian, for all the bravado he had, wasn’t prepared for the specifics.

“It’d have to be soon,” he found himself saying. “Now,” he corrected himself. “They probably already ran it.”

“Now?” Lukas asked.

He could tell Lukas was more open to the idea with Louis’ welfare in mind, putting up less of a fight. The man would do anything for his son, and it made Bastian more and more convinced that this was the right decision.

He nodded solemnly. “If you can.”

Bastian liked it even less than Lukas did, but he reminded himself that Lukas had so much to lose.

“You alright with that, Monika?”

“We were planning to go shopping. You can join us.”

With the posture of a man defeated, Lukas got up to stand by Bastian, touching his arm. “Basti and I can be ready in half an hour.”

Nervously, Bastian put his hand over his, squeezing. “Luki… I don’t think I can go with you.”

Almost instantly, he felt Lukas’ fingers close tightly around his arm, and Bastian wince beore he let go. A resigned dimness clouded over his eyes.

Wetting his lips, he caught Bastian’s gaze and dropped it to stare down at his feet.

Bastian look down at the top of his head.

“You really think we should be doing this?”

Bastian held his tone steady and kept his voice clear. “I do.”

Harshly, lifting his desperate eyes back up to his, he asked, “But, is this what you really _want_?”

He forced himself to not look away. He had to really sell Lukas on the idea for his own good. “ _Yes_ , Luki.”

Lukas let his hand fall away completely from Bastian.

His stomach sunk to the soles of his feet.

Recovering in the slightest, Lukas dragged his hand over his face, speaking up again. “Right… Okay then. I guess. Not the best idea if we’re going to trick them or whatever. Just. Give me five minutes, alright Mon?”

He left before Bastian could say anything else to him.

“Take your time,” she called back, though he was already gone.

He heard Lukas greet Louis before he closed the door to their bedroom. He had almost forgotten he was in there.

When it was just him and Monika again, their eyes drew together. In that moment, Bastian felt like he was seeing her for the first time. No longer just Lukas’ wife, she was a person with her own feelings and desires. Her own will.

His new perspective helped him understand Monika more than he ever had in the years he’d known her. He felt inexplicably uneasy looking at her.

Lukas came out appropriately dressed in less than the quoted five minutes and with Louis in tow, holding onto his hand like the spoiled child he was.

Not knowing what else to do, Bastian walked them to the front door.

With Louis present and still in the dark, Bastian and Lukas weren’t able to do anything more than look at the other. Their shared moment was cut short when Louis bounded out the door, eager to go shopping now that he knew his father would be accompanying him, and pulled Lukas out with him.

Monika lagged behind them, standing uncertainly in the doorway.

She smiled _coyly_ at him, tucking her long blonde locks of hair behind her ear.

“Thank you,” Bastian mumbled through his lips.

“I’m not doing it for you,” she said plainly before she left. “I’m doing it for Louis, and I’m doing it because I want to. For myself. My own sake. You two aren’t the only ones who’d get harassed.”

From behind the door, Bastian was able to see Monica take Louis’ other hand, slipping in to complete the picture perfection of a happy family.

It was then that a fleeting thought knocked him over, and he had to close the door and retreat to Lukas’ bedroom and lie down to think.

Monika was a person.

People had their own agendas.

The niggling thought burrowed itself down south into Bastian’s stomach. And, though he knew alcohol would do nothing to kill it, it didn’t stop him from trying.

Lukas found him passed out in front of the television when he came back just before the sun went down, and Bastian blamed it on jetlag.

.

The next morning, Lukas was overwhelmed with such a sensation of déjà vu waking up next to Bastian that he had to pause before realizing that he could damn well kiss him awake if he wanted to.

He made his move, cupping his chin tenderly. Carefully, he tilted his head down to meet Bastian and eagerly pressed his lips against his.

“Mmm,” came Bastian’s muffled surprise before he let out a sigh in recognition and surrender.

When Lukas released him, he pulled the blanket back up over them despite the already high temperatures of the room. Bastian must have woken up in the middle of the night to turn the thermostat on even higher.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” he yawned back.

“Feel better today?”

Bastian agreed without much thought. “Mhmm. What time is it?”

“A little after six. I’ve got practice, but you should go back to sleep. Okay?”

He dropped another kiss to his downturned pout before tearing himself from bed. If he spent any more time lingering, then it was more than likely that he’d miss practice completely.

Turning his head curiously when he heard rustling, he caught Bastian throwing the layers of blankets off.

“Go back to sleep, Basti. It’s still early.”

Bastian shrugged off his words, stretching his arms over his head. “Someone’s got to make breakfast. What do you want?”

Prompted only by Bastian’s concerned gaze, he shook himself out of his dumbfoundedness and suggested the first thing that came to mind. “Pancakes?”

“Sure thing, Luki,” he said, making his way past him to get started on his task.

However, before he got too far out of reach, Lukas pulled him back, hugging him from behind. Sweetly, he kissed his cheek—the softness made Lukas question whether he’d ever seen Bastian with so much as a hint of stubble—and breathed out his gratitude against his skin. “Thanks.”

“What’s up with you? It’s just pancakes,” Bastian wondered aloud as Lukas released him.

“Nothing. I feel great,” he assured him. He let a moment pass between them as Bastian tried to figure out what he meant before he added, “You're the best, Schweini.”

“Yeah, yeah…,” he replied. He ducked his head down, quickly leaving for the kitchen, calling back, “I heard you the first time.”

Lukas laughed at his antics and took his time gathering his things and heading for the shower. His happiness made him lethargic.

By the time he finished getting ready, the apartment was filled with the smells of a homemade breakfast. Sounds of Bastian busying himself in the kitchen as well as his tuneless humming seemed to force a permanent wide set smile on Lukas’ face.

Before doing anything else, he was careful to make sure they alone, not ready to repeat the surreal morning they had yesterday. As soon as he was certain it was just the two of them, Lukas came up behind Bastian, arms on either side and trapping him between himself and the dining table where he was setting up their meal.

“Don’t start anything you can’t finish,” Bastian admonished with a knowing hum. He continued setting up, pretending Lukas wasn’t practically draped over him.

His smile turned smug. “Never question my ability to finish, Schweini.”

“Big words from a man who’s going to be late if he doesn’t leave in five minutes.”

“You’re lucky I like to take my time,” he shot back, winking for emphasis.

“Yeah? What was taking you so long anyway? You had the shower running all the way until I finished cooking.”

As Bastian finished up serving the pancakes, Lukas pulled the plates to one side and dragged the chairs closer together, naturally fixing it so they sat side by side.

Chuckling as they sat down to eat Bastian’s pancakes, he asked, “Do you really want to know?”

It took Bastian all of a second to register Lukas’ teasing tone, and he poured syrup over his own plate as he blustered. “Eat your damn pancakes before I decide you don’t deserve any.”

Answering him anyway, he said, “I was being generous and giving you time to run away, but I guess you’re stuck with me now.”

“I won’t make the same mistake twice,” Bastian replied flatly, head in his food.

It was unfortunate that Bastian was embarrassed by his actions because Lukas had woken up with an undeniable desire to dote on him and shower him with affection now that he was actually here to do it.

To spare him for the moment, Lukas refrained from making more overly sweet comments, deciding only to keep his hand on Bastian’s thigh as they ate in silence.

To his credit, he also refrained from kissing Bastian goodbye at the door for fear of the two of them getting caught again. No amount of time spent with Monika would erase _that_ slip up.

As compromise, he dragged out the kisses they shared all the way up to the door instead.

They broke apart reluctantly when Bastian’s complained about the doorknob digging into his back.

“I’ll be back before dinner,” he promised. “Be a faithful wife and wait for me, eh? No milkmen or Chelsea players. And, for the love of God, no Tottenham players.”

“Just fuck off already,” he grunted, ready to slam his face in the door.

“You’re cute when you’re shy. Have a good day, sweetheart!” Stealing one last kiss, he swiftly stepped into the harsh cold to avoid retribution.

Unfortunately for him, the raw weather outside provided a stark contrast to the comfort of his apartment. It probably had something to do with the way Bastian kept the temperature turned up into what felt like the hundreds, but the romantic in Lukas wanted to believe it was just the fact that Bastian was there.

Reminding himself that he’d be able to return, he exhaled deeply and quickly made his way to his car.

He let out another puff of air as he pulled away from his apartment, mentally preparing himself for everything he had to do before he got back to Bastian. At least he knew Bastian would not be pleased with him if he skipped to tease him all day. Probably.

.

Practice was more of the same, and Lukas sidestepped anyone who looked like they wanted to talk to him, especially Per and Mesut. He had a feeling they had heard that Bastian was in London, and no doubt, wondered why they hadn’t been called up to hang out yet. And, Lukas had no inclination to lie to his friends or sacrifice more of his alone time with Bastian. The Bundesliga’s break wouldn’t last forever, and he had already had to forego enough time.

When he picked Monika and Louis up for lunch, it was less awkward between Monika and himself than he thought it’d be.

Monika treated him with more friendliness than he thought he deserved, and he really appreciated it. It made him think she was doing it for more than Louis; he believed she was doing it just because she was a good person.

And, as always, Louis was just as genuinely happy as Lukas was to see him.

After lunch, out on the patio of a café they stopped going to for reasons he couldn’t quite remember, he let Louis tell him stories about the friends he’d made at school.

“Don’t you have something else to tell your father about what you and your friend have been doing, Louis?” Monika asked, trying to keep a straight face.

Lukas caught the upward curve of her lips.

Matching her sober expression, Lukas asked in concern, “Is that true, Louis?”

“I guess so. Mattie’s parents took us to a Tottenham game once, but Mommy said it was okay because I should be there to comfort Mattie when his team loses.”

Lukas choked on his own saliva. “Really,” he coughed, struggling to laugh.

“Not _that_ , Louis,” she said, stifling her own smile. “The other thing. The thing your teacher had to talk to me about.”

Twirling the straw of his drink in his hand, he stared intently at the swirls he created before remembering. “Oh. Right, Mommy. Mattie and I got in trouble for coloring in books at the library, and Mommy said I was supposed to tell you myself but I forgot before so I’m telling you now, Daddy.” He finished by looking up at his father with a smile on his face, proud to have remembered what he’d forgotten but not quite registering that it wasn’t something to be proud of.

Rubbing his chin, Lukas asked, “And, what colors did you use?”

Monika tilted her head in confusion. “Lukas?”

But, Louis enthusiastically responded, “Red!”

Sitting back, relaxed in his seat, Lukas nodded approvingly. “Okay, then. Just so we’re on the same page.”

“Lukas!” She said, whacking him with a menu; his infectious smile overtaking her feigned seriousness completely.

“What? I will not have my son spreading around other team colors.”

Calmer, she explained, “But, there’s more.”

“More?” Lukas quirked an eyebrow at his son, waiting for him to continue.

Louis sat in silence, flicking the straw back and forth, trying to remember what his mother meant.

“… maybe about the special book you colored in? Mrs. Jonas was really mad you did that.”

Lukas asked, “Mrs. Jonas?”

“The librarian,” Monika said, filling in for him.

“Oh!” He said, making a small sound of recognition. “Yeah. She got really mad when she saw me and Mattie behind her desk.”

Adopting a more mature voice and straighter posture, Lukas warned him, “You shouldn’t be doing that to other people’s things, Louis. It’s rude.”

“Actually, that’s not the point either,” Monika admitted, tapping her finger against her chin.

“… then…?”

“Louis, why don’t you tell your father what those special books looked like. Tell him like you told me and the principle.”

“Mmmm… There was a man and a woman, and it looked like he was eating her face? Did I remember right, Mommy?”

“Perfect, sweetheart.”

“A man and a woman… eating her face… Monika?”

“It’s exactly what you’re thinking. God, Lukas. I had never wanted to laugh harder than I ever had before in my life. The woman’s an octogenarian, dressed to a nun’s standard, and I just—I couldn’t. And then—and then, they had to show me how he colored it in, and I had to excuse myself because I didn’t want to laugh in their faces.”

“How did he color it?”

Monika broke out in full laughter at that point, doing her best to hold it in and answer him but failing. She somehow managed to gasp out, “He drew the guy as a _dinosaur_ and gave him a tail, and then made the girl into another dinosaur. And then he said now they could fight better.”

He stared at Monika in amusement, letting her laugh. Glancing over to Louis, he told him, “Just stick to coloring your books at home, okay, kiddo? And… don’t go looking for any more secret books,” he added with a chuckle.

“ _Please_ ,” Monika begged, hiding her face in her hands.

“I know, Daddy. I won’t. Mommy told me already,” he said, observing his mother curiously. “Mommy’s turning red again, Daddy. Should we help her?”

“Nah. She’ll be fine,” he assured, rubbing circles on her back to soothe her through her fit. “It’s getting cold, though. I should take you two back.”

“Okay, Daddy,” he agreed. “Can I draw when we get home? I want to draw you a picture.”

Lukas shifted awkwardly. He felt Monika tense under his hand and watched as she straightened up in her seat. Her lips were set in a thin line.

“If your mother’s says it’s okay. And, you can give it to me when I see you tomorrow, alright?”

“You’re not coming home with us?”

“Uh, not tonight, Louis.”

He scrunched up his face in confusion and disappointment and went back to staring at his straw. “Oh, okay.”

“Lukas, why don’t you tell him some stories about Marco on the way back? Marco is still your favorite, isn’t he, darling?”

He nodded emphatically, excitement replacing disappointment.

Lukas breathed a small sigh of relief, but the weight on his chest didn’t completely leave him. There would be a time when stories wouldn’t be enough to fix things between them.

.

Lukas felt drained as he walked up the steps to his apartment, not quite able to completely shake the heavy feeling of letting his son down.

He sought Bastian to ease the guilt-borne ache, driving recklessly in the dark streets to reach him.

A melancholic current ran through him when no one greeted him at the door. His melancholy turned into concern when he didn’t see or hear any sign of him anywhere. He called out for him cautiously but heard nothing in return.

It wasn’t until he thought to check their bed that he found him.

Sitting down on it, the mattress dipped under his weight, and Bastian stirred with a soft groan and turned to rest on his side.

Lukas brushed the wayward strands of hair off his forehead, soft against the back of his hand. He ran his fingers through it impulsively, forgetting that he was sleeping and apologizing to him in hushed tones.

Bastian’s wearily blinked opened as he did so.

“Poldi. You’re back.”

“Yep. Tired?”

“Yep.”

“What’d you do all day?”

“I decorated a fucking tree,” he answered, sitting up. The covers fell and gathered at his waist. “Did you see it?”

“Must’ve missed it.”

“It was right in the middle of the fucking living room.”

“I was busy looking for something else.”

“What?”

“You. I thought I told my wife to wait for me.”

“Fuck off,” he grumbled, falling back onto the pillows with a disgruntled huff and pulling the sheets over his head.

“Have you eaten?”

“Made myself a sandwich.”

“You want to go out to eat dinner tonight?” He had forgotten.

Bastian remembered, though. “We shouldn’t. I’ll make us something instead.”

“Can you even make anything other than breakfast?”

“I can make you shut up,” he shot back immaturely.

“Oh, I’m sure of it,” Lukas agreed slyly. “What do you want to do until dinner?”

“I don’t know. Scrapbook?” When he didn’t say anything in response, Bastian clarified, “I was joking.”

Finally getting up to stretch his muscles, he was soon pulled back down to be cradled by Lukas.

“I know,” he said, tracing his jaw line at him affectionately.

His hair stuck up every which way, mussed with implications of a less than innocent sleep. Lukas adored it.

“What’s with you?” He asked for the second time that day, forcing them both back up. Lukas clung to Bastian petulantly.

“I’m exhausted,” he declared.

“Ah… Lay down?”

“Well, if you insist,” Lukas sighed, flopping down onto the bed. “Just be gentle. I’m delicate. Aha.”

“Aha my fucking ass. That’s not what I meant.”

“Are you sure what’s not what you meant?”

“Just shut up and lay down.”

“I remember when someone—”

“Shut _up_ ,” he stressed. “Take your shirt off and turn around.”

“Yep. I definitely remember something like this,” he muttered, complying anyway.

On his stomach with his head resting on the pillow and Bastian out of sight, he waited somewhat patiently. He might’ve sworn that Bastian had left him if he didn’t feel his weight still on the bed.

“What’re you— _oh_.” He let out a muffled groan against the pillow. “ _How_? And why you didn’t offer before? Fuck, Basti.”

Shushing him, he continued to work Lukas’ upper back muscles, pressing into his skin. “I told you to shut up… just enjoy it.”

“Will do, Captain.”

As he was practically seduced into submission by Bastian’s skill, he greedily thought about how good it would be if they got to have moments like these on a daily basis.

.

They had just finished dinner and settled into bed when Bastian declared, “You smell disgusting.”

Without moving an inch, Lukas stated, “I took a shower after practice.” He was far too content lying next to Bastian to do anything, much less have a discussion about how he did or didn’t smell.

He poked his side with his free hand, the other trapped between them. “Well you didn’t do it right.”

“Monika didn’t say anything earlier,” he mumbled into his ear.

Bastian visibly blanched, and Lukas regretted mentioning her name. However, he didn’t know why Bastian would. It wasn’t as if Bastian had shown any disdain for her before.

“ _Monika_ probably gave up on you.”

“And you didn’t? That’s really touching, mein hase. Really.”

“Shower,” he insisted, pushing him off to the side of the bed.

Lukas retaliated by gathering him closer and nuzzling his nose against his collarbone. “I will… if you made it worth my while.”

With his arms immobilized and rendered useless, Bastian struggled and kicked at him, but Lukas stayed firmly wrapped around him.

“Your while is getting to sleep in bed and not the couch.”

“Or… we could compromise. You were a little worked up after giving me a massage. Should I return the favor now?”

“Damn it, Poldi,” he sighed.

Lukas could tell he wasn’t as against the idea as he’d like Lukas to believe, but Lukas played along anyway. “Compromise, Basti. It’s good for the soul.”

Pausing, he heaved another sigh. “ _Maybe_. Maybe… If you shower now, I might join you later.”

Throwing off the blankets and pulling Bastian with him as he ignored the sounds of protest, he said, “Deal.”

.

After an exhausting shower—his third of the day—that turned into a long, hot bath lasting until they got lightheaded from the steam, Lukas convinced Bastian that he didn’t need to get dressed again, resulting in an even more exhausting round of ‘who could hold out longer.’ Fortunately for him, Bastian remembered not to leave marks when Lukas inevitably won.

Had Bastian not fallen asleep soon after, Lukas might have asked for another massage as a reward for his attentiveness and dedication. Instead, he watched as Bastian slept peacefully beside him, looking more serene than when he had found him earlier.

Lukas tickled his nose to tease him, smiling as Bastian wrinkled his nose in annoyance.

It was hard to believe how different things had been mere months ago. He still found it hard to believe.

.

The day after the agreement, Lukas was supposed to spend time in public with Monika and Louis after practice, making sure there were plenty of photo opportunities for the reporters who were bound to follow them.

However, even without Lukas telling him, Bastian would’ve known.

There was little else for Bastian to do than obsessively read the articles that constantly popped up on line, giving updates on the ‘happy reconciled couple.’

As a result, Bastian resorted to doing absolutely anything to keep himself distracted, to keep from driving himself insane with unnecessary thoughts.

He was restless staying in Lukas’ apartment without Lukas. That was how he found himself bringing home and decorating an entire Christmas tree. He didn’t think Lukas realized how much he didn’t like being in his apartment alone either.

For most of the day, he had waited in a constant vigil in their bed like Lukas told him to. He waited for Lukas to come back to banish the inky black of loneliness that pressed down on him as soon as he had left.

They were in the same city, but he still felt the familiar dull ache in his chest.

Only, when Lukas came back the first time, the dullness didn’t leave him. Rather, it grew, transforming into a lump of uneasiness in the back of Bastian’s throat, burning his senses.

There was a smell that had clung onto his skin, and he thought he was imagining it. However, it only grew as he got closer. It wasn’t an unpleasant scent, but it made him nauseated anyway. He recognized it clearly.

He didn’t think he could sleep until he forced him to shower.

He made _sure_ his own scent was imprinted on him after that.

The next day, it happened again, but he wouldn’t have been so put out by continuing their routine indefinitely—could he call it that after only two days? It felt longer. It felt steady and normal, waking up with Lukas, waiting for Lukas to come home so they could have dinner together, taking care of Lukas however he could, and then marking Lukas before getting to go to sleep with Lukas.

But, it was Christmas Eve, and he hadn’t seen Lukas since morning and couldn’t expect to see him until Christmas afternoon.

They decided it was ‘best’ if Lukas spent the night at his old apartment with Monika and Louis, not only for the sake of the charade, but for Louis as well. Lukas didn’t have to explain that it was for Louis, but he did anyway. And, Bastian didn’t say a word against the idea because Christmas _was_ family time, and he _wasn’t_ as much as it hurt him to admit.

So, the night before Christmas, Bastian skipped dinner and went to bed early, thinking about the plans he didn’t get to follow through on because of those damned reporters.

Consoling himself, he thought that at least Lukas was happy.

.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to see your parents when you wanted to—”

Lukas’ words startled her. She had almost forgotten about her previous plans.

It had been a strange few days with Lukas. Before she came to warn Lukas, she wouldn’t have thought she’d find herself being able to hold a proper conversation with him ever again. But, there she was, exchanging Christmas presents with Louis like nothing had changed.

It was a pleasant familiarity.

“—So, I thought I’d make it up to you.”

He handed her a present wrapped in rich red, and she took it with careful consideration.

It was slim and light, but she never could tell with Lukas.

“Open it,” he told her.

Louis, too, was curious, climbing onto Monika’s lap to get a good look at what his father had gotten her. “Open it, Mama,” he chirped.

With clumsy hands, Monika left ugly tears as she unwrapped it. Lifting the lid, she found plane tickets. A puzzled expression overtook her, perhaps willful disbelief as well, and she looked to Lukas for some clue as to how she should react.

“You and Louis can leave for your parents’ tomorrow morning,” he explained.

“Lukas—,” she started, unsure of what to say. She just _stared_ at the tickets with her mouth slightly parted. Closing her mouth abruptly, she swallowed, quickly trying to collect her thoughts. “Don’t you need me? I mean, to… you know…” She gestured vaguely with her hand.

“I think we can give you a few days. Plus, Basti has to leave soon anyway.”

“Are you _sure_? Aren’t they still running those stories?”

“Yeah… we… might still need your help later,” he admitted sheepishly. “But you should be able to spend Christmas with your parents like you wanted to… before Basti and I ruined it.”

“Was this Bastian’s idea?”

She saw Lukas’ fidget nervously from her accusatory tone and told herself to calm down.

“No... Why?”

Smoothly, she replied, “No reason.” She lied to cover up the sharpness of her previous question. “I just wanted to know who to thank… So, thank you, Lukas… for being so… thoughtful.”

“It’s the least I could do after everything.”

“But you didn’t have to do anything. Really. I told you I was doing it for my own reasons.”

“Then, I just wanted to. Accept it, Moni. Happy Christmas.”

She allowed herself a tentative smile. “Happy Christmas. Thank you.”

Louis squirmed in her lap and slid off, bored by the conversation he didn’t quite follow. “Mommy! Open my present to you now.”

He returned swiftly with another small box, wrapped much like the one Lukas had given her.

Jerking her attention away from Lukas, she smiled widely at Louis, and with less care than before, she tore at the paper and opened the box with little fanfare. Perhaps if she had waited, she might have caught the brand name embossed on the box and been more prepared to see the pair of pearl drop earrings sitting at the center.

For a second time, she was rendered speechless. When she found her tongue, she gushed dramatically, “Thank you, sweetheart!” She hugged Louis warmly, casting a side glance at Lukas as she brought Louis back to sit in her lap.

Tucked into her embrace, Louis asked, “Do you like them?”

“I love them! How did you know?”

“Daddy took me shopping, and I found them.”

“Aww, darling. Thank you so much.” She couldn’t help but look at Lukas again. “Really.”

.

After they put Louis to bed, they sat back to the living room, and Monika apologized. “I didn’t get you anything.”

“I told you. You’ve done more than enough to help me out.”

“I had my reasons,” she repeated.

“It was my fault that you _had_ to.”

“Please, Lukas. You’re acting like it’s some horrible thing when it’s not. I’m just spending time with you and Louis, nothing we haven’t done before.”

“It still matters to me, especially since…” He rubbed the back of his neck, trailing off.

“Since what?”

“You hate me…”

“I don’t hate you,” she corrected instantly.

Lukas asked incredulously, “You don’t?”

Matching his surprise, she wordlessly hummed her confirmation and directed their attention elsewhere. “Mmm. Thank you again for the gifts. Did you know I used to have a pair of earrings like this a long time ago? My mother gave them to me, but I—”

“Lost them on our honeymoon,” he finished for her. “Yeah. I remember. I gave up finding them a long time ago, but then Louis pointed them out a few weeks back, and I thought why not.”

“You remembered,” she repeated. “Even when we weren’t—you still…” Clearing her throat, she stood up and announced, “I’ll set up the guest room for you. Just give me a minute.”

Standing up as well, Lukas replied, “Take your time. I think I better call and check up on Basti. He hasn’t been answering any of my messages, but I don’t want him to worry.”

Stiffening, she almost stumbled over her own feet as she made her escape. “Of course. You better do that. I’d hate for you to let Bastian _worry_.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just curious. Do you guys reread chapters when I say they haven’t been edited yet to see if I’ve edited them? Last chapter was a mess… how did you guys even deal? Like, you guys could TELL I was up really late writing it haha. When I get the chance, I am so going to do an overhaul of this entire fic... Anyway, I actually had to split this chapter. It was just getting longer than I wanted to if I wanted to have time to edit it at least once before updating. :( Sorry. Also, thank you all for your kind words and interest. It keeps me motivated, especially because I can really use it right now.
> 
> What can I say about the shifting perspectives… it screws with the timeline kind of. Sorry if it got confusing. :(
> 
> Note, this isn’t the last we see of Monika or her help. Blame it on her showing up at the Inter versus Sassuolo match… pretty sure that was the match anyway.
> 
> Also. Side note. I did it again. I had another document up with my readings for class. And I skimmed it, and I was just like, “Case studies?? Inhibitory function in the brain? Paroxysmal alterations… This is—This is the worse sex scene I’ve ever written. What is this?” /And then I tried to fix it./ It was late.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey! Back with more fluff. Yay. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. There's been some editing, but I'm not that satisfied with it. [/sigh]. Time constraints. Oh well, enjoy what you can. ^^

**State of the Union**

.

She could pick the petals off of a field full of daisies, and they’d still say he loved her not. Any other thought was foolish. 

Pulling out the extra pillow and blankets for Lukas, Monika chastised herself and gnawed at her lip enough to hurt.

She told herself to focus on that physical pain because it was nothing compared to what she would have to go through again if she let herself fall back into habits she swore she would break free from.

Biting down hard, her mouth filled with the taste of iron.

.

As Lukas drove them to the airport, Louis dozed off in the back seat, bundled up in the warm clothes they had bought him together.

The sun hadn’t even come up yet, but holiday travelers were expected to fill the streets before they would even be able make it to the lines and crowds at the airport. Or, so Lukas said.

Meanwhile, she sat in the passenger seat, quietly contemplating the possibility that Lukas wanted the two of them out of way so he could return to his darling Bastian early.

Swallowing sharp words that she would sooner regret than relish saying, she told herself that that was more than likely the reason why and ran her tongue along her self-inflicted wound to inspect it. It was fighting to be healed but still felt raw in the center; the edges already smoothened from when she left it jagged the night before.

.

Monika was suddenly pulled from her dreams with Lukas hovering over her, gently nudging her arm. The familiarity pulled at her. 

“Morning, Moni,” he smiled as her eyes slowly blinked open.

In the foggy twilight of her mind, she smiled back at him, the streaks of morning light casting an ethereal halo to frame his face. “Morning, darling.”

After the moment passed and the sun ascended a fraction higher in the sky, she looked into his startled eyes and realized her mistake. Her mind rushed to catch up and make up for her stupid mouth, stumbling and crashing through to total awareness.

For the second time that day—not even yet noon—, she held back her frustration and struggled to internalize her emotions.

Though muffled by the sound of blood rushing through her ears, she heard him exclaim, “Monika, your lip! Are you okay?”

Quickly, Monika licked away the evidence and recomposed herself, pretending her slipup hadn’t happened. “It’s nothing,” she denied, shoving him away. “Sorry for falling asleep.”

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he straightened up and mumbled, “It’s alright. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Lukas opened his mouth to say something else, but Louis startled them both by shouting, “Wake up, Momma! We’re here.” He poked his head out from behind his father.

“I’m awake,” she assured him with a head pat. Slowly, she attempted a tight smile and gingerly climbed out of his car, deliberately pushing past them both. She needed air.

.

_You have 2 missed calls and 1 new message._

**_Sarah_ ** _: Call me._

.

Lukas had gotten her some water and tissues from one of the airport kiosks, and they sat down on a row of seats. They left one empty seat between them. Louis had been allowed to explore the airport but only so far as she could still see him, which meant they were essentially alone.

The water did nothing to soothe her, but it kept her hands occupied as they sat together.

In their silence, she could sense he was working up the nerve to say something to her, and she resolutely didn’t want to help him. There was really only one thing she wanted him to say, and even then she wasn’t sure she wanted it. Either way, nothing good would come from him speaking.

“You’re wearing the earrings,” he said finally, breaking their mutual silence.

She touched an earring and brushed her hair forward self-consciously. On a foolish whim, she had put them on before going to bed and had forgotten to take them off.

“They look nice on you,” he quickly added. “You look nice…”

With nothing else said, she offered her thanks, explaining, “I thought I’d show my mother.”

Lapsing into another uncomfortable silence, she thought she was safe from further conversation and just waited for him to make his exit. But, when it was apparent that he wasn’t going anywhere, Monika plucked up her courage to finally ask, “What are you really waiting here for, Lukas?” Unable to resist, she added, “Don’t you have to go somewhere? Someone to go back to?”

“I…” She watched his mouth open and close his mouth futilely and almost enjoyed his helplessness. Finally, bringing a hand to the side of his face, he slouched further down his seat and asked her, “Do you really not hate me?”

Predictably unpleased by the turn of conversation, she sighed but answered, “I don’t hate you.”

“Are you sure?”

No, Monika wasn’t. There were times when she really could believe she hated him, but more often than not, it wasn’t hate that she felt. However, she wasn’t going to tell him that. So, instead, she asked, “Why does it matter, Lukas? I told you before.”

“It just does. I wasn’t lying before. You still mean a lot to me. What you think will always matter.”

Touched, she gave him a tired smile and said, “Thanks.”

Less nervous now, he turned to face her and flashed his own smile in return. “You think we can be friends, right? Like Basti and Sarah? Since we don’t hate each other?”

Her smile disappeared completely for an instant as her mouth dropped in surprise, but she caught herself in time, pretending to smile even wider with teeth on full display. “Of course,” she agreed flatly; her eyes dimming. In turn, she folded her hands to her lap and sat up straight in her chair before adding, “That’d be nice.”

.

_You have 2 new messages._

**_Sarah_ ** _: Monika, where are you?_

 **_Sarah_ ** _: Call me back. We need to talk._

.

Bastian blearily glared at the clock on Lukas’ nightstand.

Even without it, he knew it was still early.

The creeping London morning light shone intrusively through the curtained windows. In their greeting, they told him Lukas wouldn’t be coming to see him for more than a couple of hours, and he pulled the blankets over his head to shut them out.

Turning over, he gradually inched to the left side of the bed, which he had dubbed Lukas’ after claiming the right side for himself. Pulling down the pillow into his arms, he pretended it was Lukas and sighed deeply. Perhaps, if he wished hard enough he’d wake up with Lukas like before.

Curled around the pillow, he buried his face into the pillow to hide how pathetic he felt.

When the warm layers were suddenly pulled from him and he saw Lukas’ face was inches from his, Bastian could only stare at him in disbelief.

“Happy Christmas, mein hase,” he greeted.

Growing concerned when Bastian didn’t respond, Lukas’ searching gaze locked with his, and he looked away too late; he tried to take back the blankets too late.

When Lukas’ mouth turned down in consternation, Bastian stopped his struggle, giving up in the face of his worry.

He cupped the sides of Bastian’s face, holding him steady. He used his thumb to wipe away at the corners of his eyes, feeling evidence from Bastian’s restless night. “What’s wrong?”

Bastian didn’t trust himself to speak and remained silent.

Trying to coax a smile from him, Lukas teased, “Holy shit, it’s hot in here, Basti. Even for you. Is this what you get up to when I’m not around?”

Unbeknownst to Lukas, his words hurt in their mocking reminder. Bastian trembled slightly, but Lukas noticed anyway. There was little that he didn’t.

Climbing under the covers with him, Lukas blindly kissed at him, whispering soothing sounds to calm him. He kissed him methodically. His eyes, the bridge of his nose, his cheeks, his jaw, his everything. When he reached his lips, Bastian finally responded, giving up his passive role and regaining enough strength to kiss him back with a desperation that surprised Lukas.

They broke apart gasping and lightheaded, and Bastian didn’t feel better but he wasn’t catatonic like before. The pressure against his chest was still there but less suffocating.

Lukas cradled his head close, most likely not understanding what was going on but understanding enough that he was needed.

“So… do you want to talk about it?” He asked. When Bastian didn’t answer, Lukas rambled, clearly out of his element, “We don’t have to. I mean, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I would know if people don’t want to talk about things to back off. I just wanted you to know we could. If you wanted to, that is.”

Rather than answering, Bastian listened to Lukas’ erratic heartbeats. He could feel the tension in Lukas, tension that he put there, and felt a wave of guilt that insisted he answer.

“I missed you,” he murmured against his skin in penance.

Unfortunately, caught off guard, Lukas carelessly blurted, “Seriously?”

Hearing the callous response, Bastian wanted to crawl in a hole and die from mortification. Instead, he settled for punching him hard in the chest.

“Fuck, Basti!” Lukas exclaimed. “That really hurt.”

Pushing at his chest, he shot back, “Fuck _you_. I’ll do it again, asshole.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way,” Lukas tried, struggling to keep Bastian in his arms. “… You really missed me that much?”

“Yes,” he answered, still disgruntled. He hit his fist against his chest once more, though at a fraction of the strength he used compared to how he hit him the first time. “Hell if I know why. You’re a piece of shit dickhead,” he loudly complained.

Ignoring his insults, Lukas apologized emphatically, muttering his words into Bastian’s hair. Taking his time, he smoothed it back and brushed it out of his eyes to soothe him.

Eventually, Bastian stopped hitting against his chest, and Lukas took that as a good sign.

“You’re early,” he pointed out as Lukas began to rub pleasant circles into his back.

“I just came back from dropping Monika and Louis off at the airport.”

“Why the airport?”

“I told Monika that the past couple of days were probably enough and booked a ticket to her parents’ so she could spend time with them like she wanted before we fucked up her plans”

Feeling marginally better, Bastian lifted his head up to speak to him properly. “Oh. That’s nice. When are they coming back?”

“In a couple of days?”

“So we get some time alone?”

“Mhmm,” he sighed sleepily. The warmth of the room combined with the comfort of their bed made quick work of him, and he was already prepared to fall back asleep. “It’s good to be home,” he whispered as Bastian moved closer to him.

The mood mellowed considerably around them.

“Happy Christmas, Poldi,” he finally said, squeezing his arm.

Lukas dropped a kiss on his temple. “Happy Christmas, Schweini.”

“Want to see what I got you?”

“Do I have to stand up?”

“Yeah.”

“Then it can wait.” He pulled Bastian into a tighter embrace, willing him to just enjoy the moment.

“Are you sure you don’t want it now?”

“Yep.”

“Fine. I’ll bring it in for you,” Bastian decided for him.

As he made to get up, Lukas rolled over in response, pinning him down as he spread his limbs across him.

“Don’t you dare,” Lukas warned.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll make it so you _can’t_ leave.”

After a pause, he pointed out, “That’s not much of a threat.”

“Give me a break, Schweini. I woke up at the ass crack of nothing to get back here. My brain is still trying to catch up.”

“Poor Luki.”

“Poor me,” he agreed.

Nudging him, Bastian mockingly asked, “Aww. Anything I can do to help you feel better?”

“You could let me make it so you can’t leave.”

Bastian scoffed. It was as if he had forgotten he had just proclaimed his exhaustion. “Or… How about I make us breakfast instead?”

“That works too.”

“Planning to get off me anytime soon then?”

“No.”

“…”

“Was that your stomach?”

“No, I’m just _really_ happy to see you.”

“Okay, Luki. It’s time to get up.”

Pressing a sly smile against his cheek, Lukas said, “I think it’s clear that I’m up.”

“Come on. I have to go or we’ll never get breakfast.”

“I bet I can make you stay,” he whispered. The rest of him was unmoved, but his lips hovered just a few millimeters away.

Smoothly, Bastian closed the gap and easily fit his lips over his. And, when Lukas moaned into his mouth, Bastian took his chance, flipping them and dashing off to the kitchen before Lukas could even process what had just happened.

Following him, Lukas called out, “Wait, let me try again. Double or nothing, Schweini.”

.

_You have 1 missed call and 1 voicemail._

**_Sarah_ ** _: “You can’t avoid me forever. Pick up. Oh, and Happy Christmas, I guess. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Like, whatever you’re thinking right now probably.”_

.

Sitting across the table from him and clad only his boxers, Bastian stared determinedly at him. “Alright. Fuck it. Double or nothing.”

In contrast to Bastian’s state of undress, Lukas was only missing a shirt, having lost to a pair of queens in the starting round.

Bastian felt his eyes on him in consideration and shivered as a pleasant feeling ran down his back.

Almost predatorily, Lukas curiously queried, “Are you even wearing anything else?”

“I would be if you hadn’t hustled me,” he accused.

Lukas raised his hands innocently. “I’m not the one who suggested playing.”

“I suggested regular poker.”

“And I… added to your suggestion,” he replied, teeth flashing handsomely.

“You’re still a hustler. You said you didn’t know how to play.”

“I’m a quick learner.”

“When there’s nudity involved.”

“… When there’s… an incentive.”

“Fuck you.”

“That would be one of them.”

Resolutely stubborn, he commanded, “Just deal the cards. Double or nothing.”

“Fine. That eager to strip? You could’ve just said that before.”

“We’ll see who loses.”

One short hand later, he had found himself losing to a straight flush.

“I want a rematch.”

“And I want my payment up front.”

Growling in frustration, he stood up brazenly and stripped. Throwing his boxers at Lukas, which hit his chest and landed in his lap, he stood over the table with a huff and stared straight at him, demanding again, “I want a rematch.”

Taking one glance at the boxers he now held in his hand and then back at Bastian, Lukas let out a low whistle. He adjusted himself and sat lower in his chair. Covering his mouth with his hand to hide a chuckle, he said, “You know, I think I’m good for the night, Schweini.”

Sitting back down, he coolly offered, “Winner gets to top.”

Lukas considered his proposal for a moment. “Fine. Whatever you want,” he eventually agreed; a determined glint in his eye. Pocketing Bastian’s boxers, he added, “But, I’m keeping these.”

.

When Lukas returned from his shower, Bastian immediately felt Lukas’ hand wandering further and further down the flat planes of his stomach as he came to lay beside him. Trying to fight off his advances, Bastian yawned, “Mm, Luki, no…”

Unyielding, Lukas kissed a spot on the back of his neck and whispered low, “No?”

“You have a match tomorrow,” he reminded him, becoming more awake with each stroke. “You need to keep your strength up.”

“But, it’s still Christmas,” Lukas responded petulantly.

“It’s for your own good,” he countered, resisting the little nips at his neck. “No means no.”

“Don’t you want to collect your winnings? You won after all. You deserve this.”

“You _let_ me win, bastard.”

“So we’d both be winners in the end. It was for the greater good.”

“Go to sleep.”

Instead of withdrawing, Bastian felt his fingers change course and lightly skim along his collarbone.

“You know I’ll beg if I have to… Basti…”

Almost unwillingly, Bastian swatted his hands away and tried to move further to the edge of the bed, but Lukas wasn’t deterred, pulling him back.

His tongue traced the outer shell of Bastian’s ear, and he nibbled at the soft skin.

“Nggh… Luki, that’s not fair.”

“I’m not touching you,” he said innocently.

“Luki…,” he groaned. With a burst of conviction, Bastian kicked at him. “Stop,” he said firmly, moving to get off the bed.

“Alright, mein hase,” he sighed in resignation. “If you _really_ don’t want to. Just come back to bed.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

As he lay back down, he relaxed as Lukas placed his hands more appropriately around his waist and spooned him.

When they finally settled comfortably, he felt Lukas shift again and braced himself, sensing the impending advances.

As predicted, he felt one hand stray below his navel, dipping slightly into his boxers, and he squirmed. Opening his mouth to speak, he was preemptively silenced.

Speaking low, Lukas cautioned, “You better enjoy your rest tonight, mein hase, cause you’re getting fucked hard and good tomorrow. Night.”

He stayed speechless as Lukas kissed his cheek sweetly, leaving him incredibly aroused and internally screaming at the predicament he’d landed himself in, not sure whether or not he should be eagerly anticipating the fulfillment of the promise.

.

“Hello?”

“Monika?”

“ _Sarah_?”

“Oh, good. It is you.”

“Yes, it’s me,” Monika hissed. “How did you get my parents’ number?”

“I called up everyone in Poland with the last name Puchalski. How do you think?”

“…”

“I was kidding. Relax. I had it from way back. It was kind of a desperate move, but you kind of forced my hand here.”

“I would’ve called you back when I had time. I’ve been… busy.”

“So I’ve seen. You’ve been playing house with Lukas,” she stated. “I thought you were better than that, Moni. This is not good.”

Flustered by the brusque accusation, Monika stammered, “We’re not… we’re not playing house. We’re trying to work things out.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you and Lukas are back together?”

“I might be,” she answered, fidgeting with her earrings. She still hadn’t taken them off, wearing her hair down at all times to avoid any potential questions from her parents.

“So, you still love him?”

Swallowing her hesitation and any other reservations, she simply uttered, “Yes.”

“You’re honestly such a romantic; I wouldn’t even be surprised if that were the truth. But, we’ll get back to that later.”

“Get back to what? Of course I still love him,” she said defensively, heckles raised.

“Then that really fucking sucks for you.”

“Why?”

“Because I could have sworn that he loved Basti.”

“Why would you even listen to those rumors, Sarah. You—”

“I know, I know. Blah blah blah. Death to the paparazzi, but... Well, I normally wouldn’t, but it makes sense. They are the ones dating after all. And, you know, Basti did tell me so.”

Monika almost dropped the phone in a resentful shock. Swearing, she asked, “You _knew_? And you didn’t tell me before? How long?”

“A couple of months,” she answered offhandedly. “So this _is_ just some sort of plan they made then? And they dragged you into it?”

“They suggested it, but I was the one who accepted.”

“Monika...”

“It’s fine, Sarah. They needed the help.”

“No, you need help. You’re hurting yourself.”

“I’m _fine_. I can handle myself. Shouldn’t you be happy I agreed to help? You’re still their friend, too, aren’t you?”

“You are so far from fine, and I am not happy when my friends decide to be selfish and hurt others because of it. Don’t think I don’t know why you want to help them either. I’ve seen the pictures.”

“What _pictures_?I’ve just had about enough of people telling me about _pictures_ they’ve seen.”

“Relax. I’m talking about the pictures you guys wanted them to take, Moni. The staged ones.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“What about them?”

“For starters, I’m pretty sure you didn’t know you were making those eyes at him when they were taken. You know the ones I’m talking about.”

Monika chewed at her lip. “Do _you_ even know what you’re talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb, Moni. You know.”

“Did you ever think I was acting?” She tried.

“Not for one second.”

Pulling at her hair, Monika asked, “Why did you even call, Sarah? Was it to pick a fight with me?”

“I called because you need some tough love. I called to make sure you’re not screwing yourself over with this. I called to make sure you were okay.”

“What? I’m fan-fucking-tastic, alright? I’m doing this to help myself.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” she insisted. “I get it, Monika. I really do. But, this isn’t you. This isn’t what you really want because you know better. And, when this is all over, and they have their happy whatever back, you’re going to regret ever thinking you had another chance.”

“What are you on about? I—”

Sarah sighed loudly and interrupted her. “You’re thinking you do this for them, and then Lukas spends enough time with you that he remembers he still loves you, and you live happily ever after. Maybe your intentions were better in the beginning but tell me you haven’t thought about that at least once this week.”

“I have _not_!”

“You have.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have.”

“Would you just let it go? I haven’t done anything I shouldn’t have.”

“I can’t. You have. Just admit it.”

“Fuck off, Sarah. Even if I did; you don’t know what it’s like. I _loved_ Lukas. I spent the last decade loving him, and I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life doing it.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you this way, but you aren’t special,” she announced brashly. “You aren’t the only person to have to go through this kind of thing, and you won’t be the last.”

“So you were special? You barely fucking blinked when you and Bastian broke up.”

“I knew when to let go. I knew how to treat myself better. I knew I _deserved_ better. I thought you did, too, until I saw this.”

“Not everyone can just jump from one guy to the next and be okay.”

“Screw you! I knew, but it doesn’t mean it didn’t fucking hurt. God damn it, Monika. I swear if you keep poking me, I will take the kid gloves off.”

“What kid gloves? All you’ve been doing is attack me.”

“I’ve been doing everything to get you to make the right decisions because you obviously can’t think for yourself right now. What would your parents think? Louis? Did you tell _anyone_ about this? What do you think is going to happen when they don’t need your ‘help’ anymore?”

“I don’t know! It’s complicated, okay? And, it’s gotten a lot better between us these past couple of days. You should have seen... We talk. Way more than before. He might… change his mind. I might…,” she argued, trailing off in her own lack of belief.

“Nothing’s going to happen if it hasn’t already,” she told her. Taking a moment to breathe, Sarah tried to stay on track. “Monika. You need to hear this, alright?”

“No.”

“Well, listen anyway.”

“No,” she repeated more shakily.

“ _Monika_ , listen. Lukas doesn’t love you. At some point, he might have, but right now, he doesn’t love you. You’ve seen them together, right? That’s how you found out? You know, Monika. You _know_ he doesn’t love you… You have to move on like you’ve been doing before,” she said softly. “You were doing so well before.”

Voice thick, she insisted, “I was lying.”

“That’s a step.”

She let out a sharp laugh. “And when does the lying stop?”

“When you’ve compartmentalized enough so that it’s not a lie anymore,” Sarah admitted.

“And that’s healthier than what I’m doing now?”

“I didn’t say it was the only step. But, you’d be in charge of what happens next for you… You would be deciding for you. You wouldn’t have to wait on him.”

She tightly gripped the phone in her hand, shaking so hard she couldn’t stand. Letting the tears fall freely because there was no one to see, she dropped to rest on the hard flooring of her parents’ dining room. Steadying her voice, she whimpered in agreement, “I can’t keep waiting.”

“Then snap out of whatever the hell this is.”

Trying to keep a hold on herself, she unevenly gasped out, rambling, “I know. Fuck. I know. I’m trying. I was trying. I really was. I was going to stay away from them, but then that thing happened, and I couldn’t not do it. I just—I hate myself, and I feel crazy all the time. It’s terrible, but I can’t. It’s fucking hard. And it hurts. It’s like I’m dying. And… I’m not strong like you.”

“Ha. I’m nowhere near as strong as you think I am, Moni,” she paused. “But, I am resilient. And so are you.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re over it already.”

“Am I?” She challenged. “Am I really?”

Monika hesitated, knowing full well how someone might be able to hide their feelings. “Are you?”

“Some days are better than others,” she said bluntly. “But, I want to still be friends with Basti. He is a great friend, you know. Just a really, _really_ crappy boyfriend.”

Holding the phone to her ear with both hands, Monika whispered, “What do you think should I do about the plan then? I promised to help.”

“Frankly, I would tell you to say fuck it and do what’s good for you. But, you can do honestly whatever you want, just don’t forget yourself. Promise _me_ that much,” she said beseechingly.

“.. I’ll try,” she said uncertainly, picking herself up off the floor.

"Try?"

"I will," she rectified, still unsure, but more willing than before. “Thanks for setting me straight. I think I needed that.”

“I figured you would. Try not to ignore me next time?”

“Sorry. Just one promise a day,” she joked, forcing a laugh as she wiped away at her tears. Abusing her lip further to the point of reopening her wound, she added, "I think I'm going to go enjoy my vacation now. Talk to you later?"

“Definitely. You deserve to be happy, you know. Without him.”

She murmured uneasily, "Happy Christmas, Sarah. I'll talk to you later, okay? I think I hear my parents.”

"... Happy Christmas, Moni."

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I just want to cuddle with them all so badly. They’re so precious it hurts. :( So, this chapter brings us closer to Poldi’s transfer. In real life, there haven’t been any real schweinski moments unfortunately as both are busy doing their own things, but of note are Manu’s arrival to Milan’s fashion show and National hugging day, which I will write about as their secret relationship unravels and becomes not so secret. ^^ I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well as the Valentine’s challenge. I AM SO SORRY THERE WERE SAD STORIES. The other writers took it as a literal challenge against all that was fluffy. 
> 
> Also. I just realized that a lot of my replies probably get cut off because I use the 'less than' symbol a lot which screw up the message. And yeah. Sorry. Ugh.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I had like so many other ideas to write, especially with the head fondling during the friendly against australia, but I decided I should probably update instead. (i lied. i’ve already started it but that’s just going to take forever.) Thanks for being patient. I hope you enjoy! (and i hope i catch up to the present eventually. it’s hard to write when you forget everything.) Fair warning, this chapter is basically smut filler with some plot progress because they’re so rarely actually together. I mean, after this, they have to wait like three months until international break before they’re together again (these are my justifications). Edit: I stayed up late to write this and missed the freaking match against georgia. I hope you guys REALLY like it.

**State of the Union**

.

Bastian sat on the very edge of his seat, taut with dread. The match had ended over an hour ago, and he hadn’t moved from his position in front of the television since then, still processing.

Arsenal had managed to scrape a 2-1 victory over Queens Park Rangers; however, Wenger hadn’t given Lukas _any_ time. Not even the paltry few minutes he had come to expect from a late substitution. So, again, Wenger had proven that he was not to be trusted, and there were so many things he wanted to say to him piling up inside of him. Angry, ugly things.

Eventually, he pulled himself together. He had to. He figured Lukas could come home at any moment, but he still hadn’t planned what to do yet.

He didn’t have very much experience in comforting others, especially not in person. Especially not Lukas. Lukas was usually the one comforting others. Lukas who always knew what to do. Lukas who always knew what to say. Lukas who hated to show that _he_ was hurting.

Bastian felt like he was fumbling in the dark.

After matches, even in practice, Bastian would usually go to the players and say something encouraging to console them, but he never had to stay with them for long, passing them off to someone else as he walked off in victory. There was nothing else he felt he needed to do. Nothing else he felt he owed them. No one expected anything else beyond that anyway.

Which was why this was different.

Worse, the physical comfort he had fallen in the habit of offering felt like it was beginning to overshadow what he sincerely felt for Lukas, and he wanted Lukas to know that it was more than just the physical for him as well, even if he couldn’t bring himself to verbalize it.

He wracked his brain for any hint or clue, and with a phone in hand, he was close to calling Monika to ask for advice when he remembered _Serbia_. He’d done it then without thinking. His tension didn’t go away, but at least he had an idea of what to do, of what Lukas needed. It was enough to bolster his confidence.

And, if all else failed, he unhappily concluded that physical comfort would have to do for the time being.

At the sounds of familiar footsteps reaching the front steps, Bastian dropped the phone, tripping over himself in his haste to meet him.

When the door didn’t open soon enough, he impatiently jerked it open himself. The door swung open in its usual arc, and suddenly they were face to face.

Shoulders weighed down, Lukas stood with his keys dangling uselessly in his hand, looking startled to see Bastian across from him.

However, as prepared as Lukas wasn’t, Bastian was. Leading Lukas inside, Bastian kicked the door closed, and like _Serbia_ , he placed his hands on either side of his face to rest their foreheads together. To let him know he was there no matter what.

He prayed that sincerity reached him.

The seconds stretched as Bastian searched his eyes for any indication of relief or _anything_.

“I’m sorry,” Lukas mumbled finally, pushing Bastian away.

Stumbling back out of shock rather than anything else, he watched as he escaped into his bedroom.

.

The shower had been left running for longer than usual for Lukas, and Bastian was worried.

Lukas obviously wasn’t okay.

Hesitating outside the bathroom door, his head rested heavily against the wood while his hand hovered inches away, poised to knock but not yet ready. In his mind, he rehearsed what he had wanted to say but couldn’t after Lukas had startled him with an apology. Telling him he had nothing to apologize for was the most important thing.

A sudden ringing melody made him jump in his skin, and he scrambled to find the source.

He found Lukas’ phone on the bed, and the caller ID showed his manager’s name. He glanced towards where he was once standing and back at the phone, deciding to let it go to voicemail. The third time he called, Bastian let it ring a few more times before finally concluding that Lukas and his manager were practically family, and he only had Lukas’ best interests at heart. So, he picked up the call in Lukas’ stead.

“Hello?”

“You’re not Poldi,” he said instantly. “Basti? Is that you? Where’s Poldi?”

“Yeah, hey. Sorry. Poldi’s showering, but I don’t think he wants to talk to anyone right now.” He shot another glance at the door, letting the rhythmic sounds of running water fill his pause. “Can this wait? Is it important?”

His manager let out a laugh. “It’s big news,” he promised.

“Well, I can ask if he wants—”

“No, no.” He brushed him off, “It’s fine. You can tell him when he’s out. Assuming you can keep a secret?”

Intrigued, he nodded, audibly agreeing when he realized he couldn’t see him over the phone. “Yeah, of course.”

“I talked to Inter Milan yesterday about it,” he began excitedly. “And, they’re still seriously interested in him. They’re making another offer for him this week.”

“ _Another_ offer?” Lukas hadn’t told him about any other teams since Wolfsburg.

“Yeah. They made an offer about a couple of weeks ago, but Wenger rejected it. And I didn’t want to tell him they were still interested because he doesn’t need more to worry about obviously. But, I think it’s really happening this time. As long as everyone’s willing to compromise.”

“Wow, that’s… that’s big,” Bastian sighed, sagging slightly. Italy was geographically closer, but Serie A wasn’t the Bundesliga, and he felt Lukas slipping further away. He pinched the skin on the back of his hand hard to snap himself out of it, forcing the selfish thoughts away. “That’s great news. Thanks. I’ll tell him, and he’ll call you back as soon as he can?”

“That’s not necessary. There’s nothing really to discuss. It’s really up to Inter and Wenger for the time being. Just wanted to give him some good news after today cause… I just figured he could use some. But… Forgot you were here to do that—” Laughter floated through the receiver. “—You two enjoy yourselves.”

“Thanks,” he said, full of hesitation. He didn’t like the way the laughter seemed to accuse them.

“I have to say, though, I didn’t really see this happening for a long time.”

There it was. Almost dreading his answer, Bastian nevertheless questioned, “See what happening exactly?”

“You know what. _You two_.”

“I don’t—We’re just… I’m just here to visit,” he explained lamely. “Just for a few days before I have to go to the training camp in Doha. That’s it.” He wasn’t sure even he would have believed his own words with how uncertain he sounded.

“Is that so? My mistake. It’s my job to keep up with the rumors even if most of them are bullshit, but he’s always been dodgy about you two.” He seemed to cut himself off there and coughed before adding, “Well, enjoy your vacation then, Basti. I’ll see you sometime soon hopefully. Bye.”

Bastian didn’t get another word in edgewise before the line disconnected. He was sure he’d have to talk to Lukas about that later, but there were already more than enough things they had to discuss.

He put the phone down on the nightstand and stayed cross legged on the bed, returning to staring intently at the door and willing it to open. He wanted Lukas to walk through it and do something that would show Bastian that he was alright. That it was alright.

He pinched himself again.

This wasn’t about how he felt, he reminded himself. Just like it wasn’t the last time. He needed to fucking square up.

His mind was calmer, but he fidgeted on the bed, wondering just how much longer he’d be. When his knee started to bother him, he stood up and resumed his position by the door from before the call.

Only this time, he decided to stop waiting.

He knocked once, steady and resolute. However, he got no answer.

Surreptitiously trying the doorknob, he found that it was unlocked and stepped inside.

The heavy steam clouded his vision, but he could clearly see Lukas standing under the water, his eyes closed. The rivulets rolled smoothly down his body, dipping and turning at his dimples and curves, collecting all the same at his feet.

Bastian approached him quietly, not wanting to scare him. Reaching in front of him, he turned off the now cool water.

When Lukas remained unmoving, he placed a hand on his shoulder to get him to respond, but he still didn’t budge. The skin under his hand felt as cold as marble, and Bastian shivered for him.

Grabbing a towel off the rack, Bastian quickly dried him off and wrapped it around him, leading him out to sit on the bed. His body was still cold, but his temperature was steadily rising now that he was out of the shower.

Carefully, he took another towel and sat behind him to dry his hair.

As he dried his hair, Lukas startled him with his abruptness, holding Bastian’s wrists in his hands.

Without facing him, Lukas muttered another apology. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he said immediately. The words rushed out awkwardly as they tried to get out all at once.

“I’m an embarrassment.” His voice seemed to crack, spilling out with unusual display of negativity, and Bastian noticed.

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m a failure.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.”

“You’re _not_ ,” he insisted, trying to recall what he had rehearsed earlier. It was so much easier when he was practicing with a door.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have much time to think before Lukas inevitably asked, “Then why didn’t he even play me today?”

“Don’t get me started on him,” he muttered darkly. “What he thinks or does doesn’t matter.”

“Then what does?”

Slowly, Bastian went back to running the towel through his hair, meticulously drying it. “Your manager called when you were in the shower,” he announced. He felt Lukas shift. “He told me Inter was making another offer for you. Wanted me to tell you.” When he finished, he pulled the towel away and sat back to really look at him.

“I would’ve told you,” Lukas offered, still keeping his eyes averted. Guilt passed clearly over his features, but that wasn’t Bastian’s aim.

He scoffed, tightly holding the towel in his lap. “You think I care? I know you would’ve told me eventually. But, this is great, Poldi. This is what I mean. People still believe in you. They still see you’re valuable. They still want you to play. Those are the people who matter.”

“But, it’s Serie A.”

“So?”

“It’s new.”

“It’s different.”

He moved to lie on his side, burying his head on top of the towel in Bastian’s lap. Taking a deep, readying breath, he confessed, “I don’t think I can do it, Basti.”

Troubled, Bastian stroked Lukas’ hair in silence, giving him space and time to explain himself.

“Bayern,” Lukas said with a grave finality. “Now Arsenal, too.”

It was then that Bastian understood, continuing to run his fingers through his hair. Bayern.

“What if I don’t fit at Inter either?”

“What if you do?” He countered automatically. “You did it at Cologne. You were a hero.”

“Only Cologne.”

“And all of Germany.”

“I _was_ a hero.” Lukas let out another song sigh. “A decade ago.”

“You still are.”

“We’ll see.”

“International break is in three months. In three months, you can show everyone again.”

“If I get the chance…”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what I said. If I get the chance. If Jogi calls me up. Then… I’ll do my best.”

“What makes you think you won’t get called up? Jogi loves you. He knows what you’ve done for the team.”

“That’s exactly it. I don’t want Jogi to call me up because he feels guilty, Basti. I want to give him a good reason to do it. So he doesn’t have to defend himself every time he gives an interview.”

“Then, give him one.”

Lukas lifted his head briefly before slumping back down and pulling him closer. “You’re making everything sound simple when I’m telling you what’s been worrying me, but it’s not, Basti. And, it’s kinda pissing me off.”

At that, Bastian stopped stroking his hair. His palms grew sweaty, trembling as they hovered over Lukas’ frame.

“But, that doesn’t mean I want you to stop being you,” he sighed again, noticing the lapse right away. He laughed self-deprecatingly as he guided Bastian’s hands back to him. “It’s really not you. It’s just me. I can handle myself. I’m just not used to failing like this.”

Letting out his own sigh as his fingers began massaging Lukas’ scalp, Bastian argued, “You aren’t failing. Not when you can still score a brace.”

“And Wenger _still_ benched me after that.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“An idiot, but he still controls my future.”

“Only you can control your future.”

“You’re starting to sound like a mom.”

“Well, did you eat dinner yet?”

Lukas snorted at his question but played along anyway. “I had some snacks.”

“ _Really_?”

“Yeah. Not feeling that hungry anyway.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Kinda tired, too.”

“I can make something for you.”

“Nah.”

“I can pick something up”

“I’m okay.”

“Come on, Poldi. What am I going to do if you’re nothing but skin and bones? That’s no fun.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fuck off.”

When he said nothing else and some time passed, Bastian thought he had fallen asleep.

However, he was proven wrong when Lukas suddenly propped himself up with palms flat against the bed.

Quickly pressing his lips against his cheek, Lukas rolled off him. The towel slung haphazardly around him fell and gave Bastian an envious view of everything he had to offer.

“What are you doing?”

Despite standing brazenly in the nude, he casually replied, “Trying to find some pants.”

“Why?”

Lukas looked back at him and shot him an amused smile. “Because I don’t like the way you’re looking at me?”

Defiantly, he crossed his arms. “ _How_ am I looking at you?”

“Like a piece of meat.”

“And you aren’t?”

“Apparently I’m just skin and bones.”

“I said only if you don’t eat.”

“Then you should do something about that.”

“I offered to make you food.”

He shrugged, pulling on some sweatpants from his Strassenkicker line. Crawling back onto the bed, he pushed Bastian down, kissing the column of his neck and causing him to uncross his arms.

His fingers tangled themselves into the sheets with a desperate urgency.

Lukas’ change in attitude caught him off guard; he wasn’t ready for this kind of onslaught. This wasn’t the Lukas who was unsure of himself just moments before. This was the Lukas that charmed and captivated the world.

“What were you planning to make me?” He asked in between open-mouthed kisses.

“Some…,” he murmured against Lukas’ lips. “Spaghetti?”

“Italian? How appropriate.”

“When in Rome… Why’d you even get dressed?”

“What do you mean?”

“This.”

“What? Oh. Sorry,” he said flippantly, breaking their kiss and nuzzling at Bastian’s neck in apology. “I get distracted when you’re in the room.”

Bastian was unimpressed. Aroused. But still unimpressed. “Yeah, I’m sorry for distracting _you_.” When he began to move away completely, Bastian tugged at the waistband of his pants to stop him, hissing, “Don’t stop now, idiot.”

“Testy.”

“Only when you make me wait.”

“When did I make you wait?”

“You promised me yesterday…”

“Yesterday? What’d I say yesterday?”

“Yesterday _night_.”

He allowed Bastian to pull him back down as he thought about it. “… _Oh_ ,” he said finally, grinning after the memory returned to him. “Have you been waiting like a good boy, Schweini?”

“Shut up.”

“Remind me again? What did I say yesterday?”

“You know, bastard.”

“Remind me.”

“Why?”

“Because I forget.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Humor me then.”

“No.”

“Aww, come on, Basti.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Just forget it,” he huffed, futilely trying to tug the blankets out from under him and use them as cover.

“Come on, Basti. Tell me. What did I say?” Lukas easily pushed the blankets out of his way. When Bastian didn’t say anything else, he nipped teasingly at his neck. “Schweini?”

Bastian was resolute in his stillness even as Lukas pushed Bastian’s shirt up, sliding his hands down from his chest to his navel.

Lukas let his nails graze over Bastian’s nipples as he moved over his chest again and again in the hopes of eliciting a reaction. “Schweini?”

Bastian’s muscles twitched where his fingers trailed lower and lower, dipping just into his waistband, but he made no other movement. However, Lukas noticed his eyes were intently focused where Lukas was touching him.

Catching on, Lukas tipped Bastian’s chin and forced his attention to him. “Tell me how you want to get fucked, Schweini,” he demanded crassly, dropping all pretenses of subtle persuasion.

His eyes snapped to his like Lukas expected them to. They were darkened, but he wasn’t lost yet. “No.”

“Okay then.”

“Wait, what?” Bastian barely had time to register yet another change in attitude before Lukas withdrew from him, moving off the bed completely.

“Nothing. Just backing off like you wanted me to,” he replied breezily.

“Wait. _What_?”

Lukas rounded to the side of the bed closest to where Bastian sat and nuzzled his cheek, his scruffy stubble tickling Bastian’s face. “S’okay, Basti. We don’t have to have sex all the time.”

“But…,” he faltered. He had expected Lukas to continue trying to seduce him, and then they would both have fun giving in.

Instead, Lukas sat next to him just barely avoiding contact. “But?”

His anger flared instantly. He had picked up on the teasing tone and shoved at him, shouting, “Damn it, Poldi! You scared me.”

“What? I just didn’t want to do anything you didn’t want me to.”

“Idiot,” he muttered.

“Was I wrong?”

“ _Yes_.”

Gently, he pulled Bastian into his lap with little resistance, but since Bastian refused to look at him, he had his back facing him. It didn’t deter Lukas. Wrapping his arms around his waist, he hugged from behind instead. “I can’t help it. I do stupid things when I’m happy,” he said.

As his bravado waned and doubts of his transfer churned inside him, all he could think to do was try to show his affection with his actions instead.

Bastian felt increasingly suffocated even as he tossed his shirt to the side. Twisting in his lap, he put his arms around his neck and surprised him by kissing him.

Without hesitating, Lukas responded favorably, savoring Bastian’s initiative on his tongue.

His hands quickly circled Bastian’s hips, and the muscles in his stomach tightened in exhilaration.

Bastian’s heart pounded in his chest, making it harder to breathe properly; he had to break their kiss for air. As he struggled to calm himself, Lukas’ head naturally dropped to his neck, suckling at the expanse of sensitive skin he found there.

Below, his busy hands found purpose, pushing down at Bastian’s jeans, just low enough to free his arousal.

Unable to resist, he arched his back and ground his hips down into Lukas’, rubbing against him.

He inhaled sharply at the pleasant friction he created. But, what he desperately craved was skin on skin. Clumsily, he reached behind himself to reach for Lukas’ pants. Finding that Lukas was just as impatient as he was, they tried pulling his pants off together.

When that failed, Lukas forced his hands away, and he bounced in his lap as Lukas lifted him to properly take his own pants off as well as Bastian’s completely, finally shedding all the flimsy layers keeping them apart.

Contentedly, he sighed at the liberating sensation. He could fully appreciate how Lukas felt now, pressed into the small of his back as the rest of him enveloped him completely.

Then, the splayed hand across his stomach moved decidedly further south, stroking his entire length almost inquisitively, and he was coaxed back into a frenzy.

All at once, Bastian felt like he had been left in a sauna for too long. Every inch of flesh burned. He swallowed thickly, throat dry from anticipation, or perhaps from his shallow breaths.

“Luki.” His voice trembled oddly, heart jumping to his throat.

“Hmm?”

His murmur vibrated against his skin, and seamlessly, Lukas turned his attention from his neck to his shoulder, biting down in his usual custom of marking him.

“What do you want, Schweini?”

He wanted to completely possess Lukas, but he didn’t say that. “Just don’t stop,” Bastian whispered harshly instead, thrusting into his hand.

.

Diligently, Lukas continued stroking him, hoping it distracted him from the pain in his shoulder. He just couldn’t resist.

From the corner of his eye, he observed his lover, clearly enjoying his ministrations. Locks of the hair he so painstakingly styled every morning was matted to his forehead, sticky with sweat. If there were ever a time for a picture, then this was it. It was a shame that his phone was just out of reach. He would’ve liked to capture this moment to remember forever.

In lieu, he stared unabashedly. He stared hoping to memorize and immortalize the beautiful man in his arms even though he had already learned that memory was nothing compared to experiencing the real thing.

Bastian’s breath hitched slightly, and his ears, so attuned to him, perked up greedily. When he saw him bite his lip to stifle the rest of the pretty sounds, he felt almost cheated. But, most importantly, he felt challenged.

Rolling his hips into Bastian’s, he saw his jaw clench in concentration. Doing it again, he felt Bastian’s nails dig into his arms. Even as Bastian forced his hips down and created a pleasant rhythm, he was still resolutely clinging onto his annoying control.

So, without warning, Lukas flipped them over. More specifically, he flipped Bastian over as he got out of bed.

“Poldi, what the hell?”

“Shh, mein hase. I’m not stopping… just gathering the necessities.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m getting the lube because I’m a gentleman. Now lie back down,” he commanded, grabbing what he needed from the nightstand and coming back to the bed within seconds.

He briefly contemplated taking his phone as well, but he didn’t want to push his luck.

.

Bastian bit into a pillow as he felt the cool gel and Lukas’ fingers. Impetuously, he took hold of himself and continued where Lukas had rudely left off.

Already overly sensitive, Bastian worried bottom lip until it felt raw and exposed just like the rest of his body. He grunted and moaned, enjoying the pleasure that Lukas was giving him and the pleasure that he selfishly took himself.

“Please,” he choked out. “No more foreplay.”

“Are you sure, mein hase?”

“Too much foreplay already. Just fuck me, damn it.”

“Such a pretty mouth. Such dirty words,” he admonished. But that didn’t stop him from obeying.

As soon as Lukas withdrew his fingers, Bastian felt himself being filled to the hilt. Everything suddenly felt too good.

His ragged breathing intensified as he worked to accommodate Lukas’ size, but Lukas barely gave him time to adjust before he began thrusting into him.

“ _God_ ,” he moaned, finally giving up any pretense of staying quiet. His lip had gone through enough abuse for the day.

But, for the life of him, he couldn’t remember why he felt compelled to keep quiet. At this point, the entire neighborhood could hear how thoroughly and well he was getting fucked for all he cared. Maybe they could ask Lukas for some tips. _After_ , Bastian was done with him. Of course.

“Please, mein hase. I told you before. Call me, Lukas.”

“Fuck _, Luki_.”

“That works, too.”

There was that sly laughter again. This time, however, the laughter was followed by some mumbled words Bastian barely registered as Polish.

Curiously, Bastian wondered why the words sounded so fucking filthy even when he couldn’t understand him. More so, no matter how dirty, Bastian still wished he could understand them because fuck. Lukas speaking Polish. _Fucking Polish_.

He entertained the notion of asking Lukas what he was saying, but he didn’t want him to risk breaking his stride. It wasn’t worth it.

He was close, embarrassingly close thanks to Lukas’ voice, but Lukas was close, too. Bastian could tell.

He told himself that he had to hold out just a little bit longer, wanting them to enjoy the moment together.

He held onto the sentiment until the very end when Lukas demanded control, covered his hand with his own, and began stroking him as he guided himself home, timing it just _so_ to make it feel like Bastian would pass out from the pleasure.

Fortunately, instead of reaching unconsciousness, his entire body seemingly unwound like a tight coil, breaking out of his skin and leaving him feeling tingly as he shouted something he felt like Lukas’ name as he came, spilling his release into the sheets.

The experience still left him lightheaded as always as he struggled to recover, but he knew better than to think it was over.

The waves of pleasure broke over him almost painfully as Lukas continued to pound into him.

Over his exhausted panting, made difficult by his sore throat, he could almost swear that Lukas was laughing triumphantly at him again. He didn’t know why.

“Come, Luki,” he begged. “Harder.”

He felt Lukas’ hand snake into his hair, nails digging into his scalp as he forced his head into the pillows.

A second later and without warning, Lukas roughly tugged at his locks, and Bastian’s back arched like a bow.

Through the blinding intensity, he felt Lukas’ come inside him with a final _fuck_ before he released him.

In his haze, Bastian felt himself being ushered under the blankets and into Lukas’ arms. He snuggled closer as Lukas spooned him, yawning.

However, as the lust receded from his mind, he found himself feeling unsatisfied, and he had a feeling he knew why.

Lukas deserved more than this, he reminded himself again. He deserved better than to just have to assume how Bastian felt.

Wanting to face him as he said it, Bastian pulled back from him slightly; though, it might have been easier if he weren’t.

“What’s wrong, mein hase? Did I hurt you?”

His voice was worried, but it was also tinged with sleepiness and fatigue, and Bastian could see the darkness under his eyes even in the dim lighting. There was an underlying mental exhaustion that had grown since the month before, but when he smiled at him, he almost couldn’t tell.

“No.” He smiled back through the darkness. Drawing on the perfection of the moment for strength, his tongue loosened. “Luki…” he began.

.

Pitifully, Bastian never got to finish as he drifted away into sleep.

.

Before the match against West Ham, his manager had told him to be patient, hinting that the people at Inter and Wenger were close to finalizing the deal, which was why he had even less expectations than usual for playing in the match. If Wenger wasn’t willing to give him time before, then he would be impossibly less willing now that he was about to exit the club.

Yet, he couldn’t help but hope anyway.

Later, when he returned to his apartment, he convinced Bastian that he sorely needed to be consoled in bed.

.

Bastian stretched above him, sitting across his stomach with his legs on either side of his hips.

“You think this counts as exercise?”

“Hold on,” Lukas hushed him, holding a finger to his lips. “What was that?”

“It was a joke. I was joking.”

“Not you, sweetheart. I think I heard someone at the door.”

“It’s late. Who would be visiting now?”

“It’s ten.”

“Late enough.”

To Bastian’s ire, he rolled them over and got out of bed, withdrawing from Bastian and taking his warmth with him. “I should check.”

“Or you could finish what you started,” Bastian suggested in annoyance, gesturing at his prominent arousal.

Lukas laughed unapologetically. “I’ll be back to finish that for you. I promise.”

“You fucking better,” he grumbled.

“I will.”

“You’ve got a minute or I’m starting without you.”

“What? How?”

Bastian gave him a pointed look.

“That’s not playing fair.”

“If you don’t come back in a minute, then you can spend the rest of the night figuring out how to go fuck yourself.”

“That’s really not fair, mein hase.”

“Fifty seconds.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Wait!”

“Yes, dear?”

“Aren’t you going to put on some pants first?”

“I _could_ …”

“Put on some pants, asshole.”

“Yes, dear,” he repeated affectionately, trying to remember where he had last seen his pants.

.

As he approached the door, the hushed murmurs grew louder. Peeking through the peephole, he caught sight of Mesut and Per. The sudden knock on the door made him jump back, heart beating rapidly in his chest.

Three more loud raps in succession followed his silence, confirming that he wasn’t just hallucinating.

Breathing deeply to brace himself, he nervously looked towards his bedroom and back at the door. Again, the knocks came loudly, reverberating through his head. They wouldn’t be leaving any time soon.

He cursed, opening the door as casually as he could and hoping he had a natural smile on.

“Hey,” he tried as he stood in the doorway. “This is kind of a bad time. I—”

“Nonsense. This is the best time,” Per interrupted, forcing the door open wider and edging into his apartment.

Mesut quietly slipped past him, too, while he stood dumbfounded.

Per continued, “We figured since Basti was supposedly here to visit us, we’d actually spend some time with him. So, where is he?”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next stop, Italy. FINALLY. Actually, there’s some talk and THEN Italy. But yeah, finally. Maybe then I can actually catch up to the present. This is ridic. Anyway. I hope you enjoyed that chapter. ^^ I included sex in lieu of plot because I was asked and it’s international schweinski week, so why not. D:
> 
> Fun fact: In my living room, there are always multiple religious items facing me as I write these things. Pray for me. Also. Shit. I think my sister saw what I was writing (the part where luki was telling basti to tell him how he wanted ‘it.’ damn it poldi. control yourself. you’re making me look so bad.).
> 
> Side note: How to tell the guy who’s possibly into me that I’m into this?


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yeah… sorry it took this long to update! Per usual, I hope you enjoyed it. Minimal editing this time because I have to go clean! ,_, Yes, seriously. Any volunteers?

**State of the Union**

.

Lukas panicked at their request, hastily shutting the door on them.

Unfortunately, Per was faster than he and had forced the small crack wide open.

“Please, come in.” Lukas welcomed them as sarcastically and loudly as he could. He hoped Bastian was listening for the intrusion.

Mesut surveyed the living area. “So where’s Basti?”

“Sleeping?”

“This early?”

“Yes?”

Per and Mesut weren’t as believing as he would have liked, and the three waited at a standstill.

The silence didn’t last long, however. From further inside the apartment, noticeable but indistinguishable noises made their way to them.

They looked at each other in confusion trying to figure out what could be making such sounds when Lukas realized _who_ it was.

His eyes widened, and he paled in fear. Coughing to cover up his embarrassment, Lukas awkwardly stammered, “I guess he’s still awake. Stomachache. He tried to sleep early. And, it didn’t work. I’m going to go check up on him now, but you should really come back later. He’s probably not getting any better tonight.”

“Really? We can help. What do you need?”

“No, it’s fine. Nothing. I can take care of him myself. It’s not that big a deal.”

“Then, can we stay anyway?”

“We actually wanted to talk to you, too.”

He was hesitant, but nevertheless, he relented, “Alright. Just wait here? Or, there—the couch is good, too.”

Sneaking quick glances between them and the door he unwisely left ajar, Lukas slipped into the room and closed it hastily behind him.

There, Bastian sat against the pillows relaxed, one arm behind his head and the other hand lazily stroking himself.

“Took you long enough,” Bastian panted, his hands still keeping busy. He seemed to be happy that he had Lukas’ attention so entirely. “I was getting bored.”

Lukas opened his mouth and closed it again. There was time, he reasoned. Carefully, he schooled the beginnings of a smirk into something more apologetic.

Coming around to the side of the bed, Lukas leaned over him, holding onto the headboard with his hand for balance.

He swept his finger across Bastian’s collar bone and dragged it down his stomach, stopping just above the thatch of coarse hair. “Is that so?”

Lukas’ touch left a trail of goose bumps in its wake, and Bastian shivered in recognition of his husky voice he used. Biting his lip, he nodded. “Practically to death.”

“I sincerely apologize, mein hase. How can I make it up to you?”

“You’re the one who was late. You think of something,” he ordered. “Surprise me.”

“You will be,” Lukas assured him, pressing his lips against Bastian’s. Tipping his chin upward, he deepened the kiss. When he noticed Bastian’s hand had stopped in its ministrations to pull him closer, he took over in his stead.

He started out at a teasing pace, lighting stroking Bastian, enjoying the feel and weight of him in his hand. Lukas was enjoying the slow buildup, but Bastian impatiently tugged at his hair and urged him to hurry. Laughing into his mouth, he dutifully complied, wrapping his fingers around him. Lukas’ clever hand worked swiftly to give him what he wanted, and the faster he moved, the more Bastian moved restlessly beneath him.

Feeling him tremble and whine, Lukas hushed him as a reminder and took his mouth completely. It’d be unfortunate if Per and Mesut got too curious and walked in on them when Bastian was enjoying himself.

Lukas felt himself harden by the excitement of potentially being discovered, but he would rather not risk it and decided to end it soon.

Turning Bastian away from the pillows and headboard, Lukas pushed him down and splayed him across the bed. He stuck close, not letting him have the chance to make any more conspicuous noises. Then, mimicking more wanton acts, Lukas hooked Bastian’s leg over his hip and thrust against him.

He breathed out his own contented sigh at the much needed contact. He repeated the motion, covering Bastian’s mouth once more.

They had to stay quiet after all.

Harder, he moved his hand up and down Bastian’s entire length.

Harder still, he moved rhythmically, careful not to make the bed squeak while Bastian groaned into his mouth.

Bastian was close, and Lukas was giddy with triumph despite having gotten him off so many times before.

Lukas thought he’d never tire of it.

Feeling pressure against his chest, he realized Bastian was insistently trying to push him away.

In hushed tones, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he replied. With a pause, he gazed up at him. “Absolutely nothing.”

Lukas fondly kissed him again, slow, sweet, and wet. Without missing another beat, he worked him up again, hearing him sigh and gasp in between kisses.

It didn’t take long before Bastian tensed. His muscles tightened, and he grunted, almost biting Lukas’ lip as he came into his hand.

Lukas smiled as Bastian sighed and collapsed back onto the bed, ready to clean him up.

With a cloth in hand, he ran the wet towel over him.

“Who was at the door?”

“Just Per and Mesut,” he replied softly.

“What did they want?”

“To see you.”

Bastian snorted. “How’d you get them to leave?”

“I didn’t. They’re still out there.”

When Bastian froze, Lukas realized his mistake. Doubling over, he also realized that Bastian had just punched him in the gut. It was fair enough, he agreed. He knew his little prank wouldn’t go over entirely well with Bastian.

“I hate you,” he intoned, eyes narrowing. “What if they heard?”

“Why do you think I told you to be quiet?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Bastian spoke through clenched teeth, “Just get out there and tell them to fuck off.”

Luka wisely decided to do as he said instead of compliment him on the endearing red that washed over his cheeks.

Adjusting himself, Lukas made his way to the living area where Per and Mesut were talking to themselves. He cleared his throat to catch their attention. “Sorry, guys. Basti’s really not feeling like seeing you two today. He says ‘hi,’ though. You two can come back tomorrow.”

“It’s fine, Poldi. We said we wanted to talk to you, too.”

“Alright,” he conceded. “What about?”

Mesut suggested, “Sit down.”

Per looked to Mesut before explaining, “We wanted to talk about this while Bastian was here, too, but if he’s ‘sick,’ then we’ll have to go on without him.”

Lukas nodded, not liking the atmosphere. “Okay…?”

Again, Per looked to Mesut, who nodded back at him. “Actually, I have some other things I want to talk with you alone. Is that okay? Are you hungry? We can walk and get some food.”

“I guess,” he agreed slowly. It was better than them all staying in the apartment. Though, he wasn’t sure if he liked Mesut staying in his apartment alone. He wasn’t sure if he might find something incriminating.

“You can pick the place. You know this neighborhood better after all,” he offered with an almost pained smile.

While leaving, Mesut requested some food be brought back, insisting on two orders since he was feeling particularly hungry.

Lukas was suspicious, but he acquiesced anyway.

Outside, Lukas’ breath hung in front of him, each step bringing a crunching sound beneath his feet, and winter hadn’t even fully set in yet.

They weren’t too far from the apartment when Per began to talk.

“Ulrike told me that you and Monika were back together?”

Lukas’ adam’s apple bobbed as the lie hit his tongue and slipped through his teeth. “Yeah. We are.”

“It’s interesting.”

“Why?”

“You tell me.”

“Per?”

“Tell me or I’m going to tell you exactly what I think.”

“I don’t have anything to tell.”

“Fine,” he glanced surreptitiously around first before finishing, “I know you and Basti are sleeping together.”

Lukas ran his hand over his face and straightened his back. Pausing in the street, he went on the defensive, futile as it was when his secret lay bare before them. “And?”

“And? _And_? What’s going on here, Poldi?”

“It’s none of your business.”

Per shoved him back. “Poldi!”

“It’s not what you think,” he sighed.

“Then, here’s another chance. Tell me what I should think because, the way I’m thinking now, I should beat some sense into you _and_ Basti for screwing around with Monika’s feelings for God knows how long.”

“She knows, too,” Lukas started with another heave of his chest. Before Per could interrupt, he added, “And, she wanted to help, that’s why… she’s pretending to be with me. There were pictures, and she wanted to protect us.”

“Pictures of you and Basti?”

“It wasn’t too long ago. They had pictures of me and Basti, I guess, kissing or something,” he mumbled. “In a car. We weren’t careful enough.”

“Jesus, Poldi. How long has this been going on?”

He tried to pinpoint a simple answer because he wasn’t sure either when it actually started. “After the World Cup. Last October when we got called up...”

“You were still together with Monika.”

“Kinda, yeah. We were already close to divorcing though.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Anything else you want to tell me?”

“Basti’s not really sick.”

“Then why didn’t he just come out?”

“It… It’s complicated.”

“Right… Is that everything?”

Lukas took a moment to consider the question and his answer carefully.

“Poldi?”

His mouth formed a hard line, debating whether or not to tell Per. “I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to get the wrong impression about me and Basti. I think I love him, Per. I love Basti.”

To his credit, Per took it in stride. Shaking off his surprise, Per reasoned, “I figured it had to be serious. You divorced Monika, Poldi. Practically gave up your damn family.”

“I guess I did.”

“And… there was always something with you two. Guess it was just a matter of time.”

“Great timing, too, eh?”

“I don’t think there was a _right_ time, but I’m glad you two are happy. And I’m really glad I don’t have to beat you two up.”

“You think you could take me?”

“I think you’re going to have to come up here and ask me that to my face.”

“Short jokes. Hilarious. But, they were funnier with Philipp around.”

Per let out a long breath. “Let’s get going. Mes is hungry. Hop into my pocket, it’ll be faster.”

"Ha."

"You know... you could've told me before. I wouldn't have judged you. Either of you."

"I know. I know... I just... It's hard. I would have though. You'd be one of the first to know."

"Stop, what will Basti think?"

"Come on, you idiot."

There weren’t too many open shops around, so they ended up going to a market two blocks from his apartment. It was further, but it stayed open later.

Looking at the beer selection to pair with the sandwiches they found in the deli aisle, Per recognized one brand in particular. He had seen it in Lukas’ apartment before and concluded that it must have been for Bastian that time, too. Per laughed to himself and picked the same brand. He thought Bastian would appreciate it.

When they got back with food and beer, they heard Mesut talking with Bastian. However, they quieted as soon as they spotted the other two coming back.

“Got sandwiches and beer,” Lukas said, placing them on the table.

Grinning too widely, Per turned to Bastian and asked, “How’s your stomach, Basti?”

Bastian scowled in response.

“Not good, huh? Well, got some beer if you’re up for it.”

“Thanks,” he muttered sullenly, taking the proffered bottle anyway.

Watching him down practically the entire can, Per quirked his eyebrow at him in amusement. “Well, looks like your stomach’s fine. Maybe Poldi meant to say your ass was bothering you instead? Or is it, Poldi was bothering your ass?”

Lukas exclaimed in shock, “Per?!” He hadn’t told him to keep it a secret, but he thought it was implied at the very least.

Per shrugged. “What? Mes knew before I did probably. He said he practically caught the two of you.”

Mesut’s eye twitched at the tactless and crude reveal but nodded in confirmation.

“Ta da,” Bastian said sarcastically, taking another long drink. He moved to the dining table to join Lukas, trying not to think about the last time Lukas fucked him on it. Smiling to himself, he grabbed a sandwich and another beer.

“You knew,” Lukas accused Mesut.

With round doe eyes, Mesut replied, “Yeah. We covered that.”

“I meant with the food thing. You knew Basti was okay.”

“Oh, that.” Mesut deadpanned, “Just sounded like he was more than okay.”

While Per laughed openly at Bastian, Bastian glared at Lukas, threatening, “I’m going to kill you.”

Per only laughed harder. Opening his own bottle of beer, he jokingly asked, “Any more secrets you two want to get off your chest?”

At that, Lukas dropped his eyes and stared hard at his sandwich.

“Poldi?”

“What?”

Lukas considered the last time he kept something like this from Per and decided that full disclosure was best. He had already let one secret go today. “Inter’s interested.”

Mesut placed a sandwich in front of Per and bit severely into his own. He kept his eyes trained on Lukas and chewed.

Taking the lead, Per ignored the sandwich and looked challengingly at him, his jaw set. “And, you said ‘no.’”

Lukas took a bite out of his sandwich, not really tasting it, but wanting to act casual before admitting, “I’m going to Italy after New Year’s to sign the papers.”

Angrily, Per slammed his hands down on the tabletop, startling the other three.

He tried calming him. “I’m sorry, Per, but I have to.”

“I know. It’s not you. I'm glad you told me, too. I just—it’s… Fuck. This isn’t fair, Poldi. This entire thing. It’s not fair.”

“Sounds like,” Bastian interjected, lifting his new beer bottle up, “We have some drinking to do.”

.

They made another trip to the market when they soon ran out of things to drink in his apartment. The empty bottles and cans littered the table in front of them.

Bringing the glass bottle up to the light and shaking its contents, Bastian reminisced, “Remember when we won the Cup?”

“Yeah?”

“Feels like ages ago.”

“… yeah.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Yeah.”

“Not the same without you either, Per.”

Not wanting to talk about it, Per deflected, “How long are you staying anyway?”

Bastian let the subject drop. He didn’t like talking about people retiring either; it reminded him too much that he was going to have to consider it soon as well. “Training camp starts the ninth. I’m staying here until a couple of days before that.”

“Good. We can all show you around if Poldi doesn’t mind sharing?”

“Go ahead. He’s bored of me anyway.”

“We heard,” Mesut confirmed slyly.

Trying to keep his face straight, Per added, “We tried not to. Trust me. But… thin walls.”

Bastian dropped his head into his arms and swore, “Fuck.”

“Details really aren’t necessary.”

Lukas rubbed the sides of his forehead, wishing they weren’t so comfortable making fun of them about that kind of thing.

Fortunately, Per pointed out, “Hey, you never opened your Christmas presents?!”

“What’re you talking about?”

“The gifts. There, under the tree.”

“Oh, we got sidetracked, I guess,” Lukas explained. His eyebrows knit together trying to remember why they hadn’t, but his mind was fuzzy around the edges. “We’ll do it later, right Basti?”

“Umf,” He groaned. His face was buried deep into his arms at that point, unable to face any of them.

Wanting to cheer him up, Lukas took his hand and kissed the back of Bastian’s head.

Bastian squeezed his hand in return but didn’t move otherwise.

“Get a room!” Per jeered.

“Don’t encourage them.”

Sticking his tongue out at the two of them, Lukas declared that it was time for bed, for _all_ of them.

“You’re not my real dad,” Mesut complained, attempting to rub the exhaustion from his eyes. His words ran together slightly, but he was coherent enough to comprehend.

“Thank God.”

Undeterred, he asked, “Hey, can we stay here?”

“’Course.” Lukas was more tired than he thought. “You can have the couches.” He looked to Per and added, “If you can fit.”

It turned out, Per couldn’t fit, but Lukas set up an equally uncomfortable makeshift bed with some blankets and pillows set on the floor for him. Mesut stuck with the cramped couch. And, he and Bastian kept to the bed.

“I hate you,” Bastian declared, speaking quietly into the darkness of the room.

Pretending to be wounded, Lukas pointed out, “That’s not very nice.”

“I still hate you.”

“Let me make it up to you?”

Lukas turned on his side and placed his arm across Bastian’s middle, already scheming, when he heard simultaneous shouts from the living room.

“Good God! Will you two give it a rest? Once on _accident_ is enough.”

“Thin walls, thin walls, thin walls!”

Cutting through the cries, Bastian pulled the covers completely over his head and called out to all of them in a muffled voice, “Good _night_!”

.

At some time after daybreak but before noon, Monika woke to a call from Sarah. Picking up with one hand, she stretched her other muscles as far as she could go. Louis would wake soon, she figured, and there was breakfast to prepare, so she may as well start now.

“Monika?”

“Yep,” she yawned.

“Slept in?”

“Yep.”

“Late night?”

“Nope. Louis is still on holiday so I don’t have to wake up too early to make him breakfast. Where are you? You don’t usually call this early.”

“Oh! Is it early over there? You know I hate figuring out these time difference things.”

“I just call and hope, frankly.”

“Exactly! Sorry for waking you.”

“Forget it. I should be waking up now anyway. So? Where are you?”

“Oh! I’m in Greece.”

“For fun or for work?”

“What? Work can’t be fun?”

She ran her hand through her hand, haphazardly taming it, as she entered her restroom to brush her teeth. Pausing in front the sink, she held her toothbrush in one hand and her phone in the other, gesturing absentmindedly at herself in the mirror, “Not everyone gets to travel and dress up to take pictures on the beach.”

“Excuse you. Today is actually just a fashion show thing.”

Mumbling through the toothpaste, Monika feigned sympathy, “Right. Poor thing.”

“What?”

She rinsed her mouth. “Nothing.”

“Sure. What are you up to today?”

“Mmm… I’ve been thinking about getting a job.”

“A job, why?”

“I want to feel useful again? I don’t know. It’d have to be part-time since I don’t want to leave Louis home alone, but it’d be nice to have a reason to leave the house other than shopping.”

“You say that like it’s such a burden.”

“Say… any of your model friends suddenly come down with a case of broken leg, and you call me, okay?”

“Of course, darling. Then again… we wouldn’t have to wait long if you’re serious. I could arrange something.” Conspiratorially, she added teasingly, “Accidents happen all the time...”

“No, thank you.” Monika could feel Sarah grin, and while the offer was sweet, she couldn’t let some poor model spend the next couple of weeks in a cast because she was feeling restless.

Hearing her door open behind her, Monika turned around to see Louis.

“Is that Auntie Sarah?”

“Yeah, you want to say ‘hi’?”

“Yeah!”

Monika spoke into the phone furtively, “Hold on, Sarah. Someone wants to talk to you.”

Louis and Sarah often played a game where Louis tried to guess where Sarah was calling from, so Monika knew she had time to change before preparing breakfast. Perhaps, she’d glance through the classified ads in the paper as well.

.

On New Year’s Eve, Bastian and Lukas spent the day together before heading off to a New Year’s party that night at Per’s. Ulrike had left to her friends, and Monika had asked for time with Louis to visit Sarah, who he had been asking to see ever since Sarah had told him she was in Greece with the stories of gods and goddesses.

However, since if was just the four of them, rather than a party, it became a small get together for Lukas before he had to go off to Italy on the second. Although Bastian would have to leave as well and it would be their last day together, they were content to spend the time with the others. It helped that Lukas made Bastian see that it hadn’t been completely fair of them to keep to themselves when it appeared the times they had to spend together were growing fewer and farther in between.

.

Walking out of the airport terminal in Italy, Lukas checked his phone almost obsessively until he saw a message from Bastian.

_-Good luck!_

Without thinking, he replied, ‘Don’t need it ;)’

_-Cute._

_-Have you landed?_

_-How’s Italy?_

‘Sorry, got hit by the people waiting outside.’

_-Ouch. They must not like you already._

‘Shut up.’

‘You know what I meant.’

_-Barely._

‘Talk later? Meeting with the people now.’

 _-Okay. Good luck. Miss you_.

Lukas took a moment to appreciate the sentimental words displayed on his phone screen and typed out another reply. ‘Miss you, too, mein hase. Ilysm.’

_-Ilysm??_

‘;)’

- _???_

He chuckled to himself before putting it away completely for the meeting. He already told him that enough anyway. He was confident that Bastian would figure it out.

.

Days later, Lukas officially had his medical clearance, snatching up number 11 as well before Xherdan Shaqiri, who had coincidentally been Bastian’s ex-teammate at Bayern, could.

In another two days, Inter would be playing Juventus, but Lukas didn’t think he would’ve had much of a shot playing. Still, he put his best effort in working with his new teammates, getting to know everyone, and adjusting to his new life in Italy. It was hectic, to say the least. Unfortunately, even as busy as he was, he couldn’t help but feel lonely in the new place. Everyone was more than friendly enough, but friendliness couldn’t compare to seeing a familiar face.

He even thought he had been desperate enough to start hallucinating when Monika and Louis showed up before the match.

After standing in front of their with his mouth open for more than comfortable, Lukas pulled them both into a hug.

“Surprise,” Monika said finally, her face full of her own hair as he held them both to his chest.

“Surprise, daddy!” Louis mimicked. “Are you surprised?”

“Definitely. What are you two doing here?”

Monika pried herself and stood at a more respectable distance before answering, “You said you were lonely… and, Louis thought we might see you just for the night.”

“Isn’t it a school night?”

“He was very persuasive,” she confessed.

“I was a good boy,” Louis corrected, all bright eyes and smiles.

“I—You know I’m not starting, right?”

“That doesn’t mean you won’t get to play.”

“I’ve been with them for two days.”

“You never know…”

Lukas shook his head in disbelief, already defeated by her selflessness. “Show you around?”

“Isn’t your match starting soon?”

“I’ve got a little time. I can show you to your seats at least.”

“Thanks.”

Lukas lifted Louis up on his shoulders, and the three went around the stadium once before he left them at their seats.

.

Down on the pitch, Lukas sat on the edge of his seat. He carefully watched his teammates run around, wishing it were him there instead.

At halftime, without an outlet, he was overflowing with energy. He fidgeted and was about to grab yet another coffee when Mancini tapped him and told him to go warm up. He had to make sure twice that Mancini had really meant him, racing off when he got his confirmation.

It was amazing. The feeling he had when he got out onto the field. The crowd and the excitement. He had almost forgotten what it was like to have others’ confidence in him.

He didn’t so much as run towards the ball as he did fly. However, with the score drawn and the match coming to a close, Lukas didn’t feel like he made much of an impact. He feared what they should say about the match after.

He needed to assure Mancini, the team, and the fans that they hadn’t chosen wrong.

Which is why he took the risk.

If he scored…

Sprinting towards the other Juventus player, he challenged for the ball and won. He dribbled the ball up the field towards the goal, moving pass the blurs of white and black. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through him. He relied on it.

Faster and faster, he didn’t even realize he was down until he opened his eyes and saw the sky.

People gathered around him. They stared.

Sitting up, he was ready to walk it off and get back to business, not even thinking about who had done what; he felt no pain. However, taking his first step, he stumbled to the ground. His leg had given out.

Mauro called for the medical team when he tried and failed for the second time.

He could feel it then. The tightened pain in his thigh. He cursed his luck, holding onto Mauro, who helped him off the grass.

Mauro left him with a sympathetic pat on the back and a, “Tough luck, man.”

However, he didn’t hear him. The screaming from all sides of him drowned out most things as the game resumed without him.

Sitting down on the bench, he let the medics do as they pleased. He answered when prompted. He wasn’t in the mood for much else.

The last few minutes of the match ran out as he waited for them to finish checking him. It stayed as a draw.

Getting up to walk with the rest of the team to the showers, he heard his name being called. The voice stuck out from the others.

“Lukas!”

“Monika?” He stopped to turn towards the stands.

Having his attention, she tried to climb directly down.

“Monika! Wait!”

Finally, he reached her and helped her and Louis down.

When he put Louis down, he was met with angry tears. Monika hit and shoved at him, her hair flying angrily around her.

“Damn it, Lukas! Don’t. You. Ever. Ever. Ever. Scare either of us like that again! You son of a bitch.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Exhausted from the game and tired of being hit, Lukas pulled her to him to trap her, repeating his apologies until she calmed down.

“I knew you’d be okay, daddy,” Louis said from the side as he tried to squeeze in between them.

When he felt him shake and hold onto his kit tightly, Lukas felt a stab of pain shoot up his leg, but didn’t push him away. He had worried him enough.

“Are you really alright, Lukas?”

“Yeah. Old injury. Nothing new.”

“Really? Again? Hasn’t it been over a year already?”

“Let’s get off the pitch. I’ll see you two after?”

“Sure. We’ll be waiting around. Call me?”

“Yeah. See you soon,” he said, ruffling Louis’ hair as he gently pulled away.

.

In the locker room, Lukas finally checked his phone. There were twelve calls from Bastian and just as many messages. Each one seemed to ask the same thing.

The room was practically empty, and he decided it was best to call him back.

Bastian picked up on the second ring.

“Luki!”

“Hey…”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. It’s fine. Sorry for worrying you.”

“It looked bad.”

“It’s not.”

“I wish I could be there with you. Can I?”

“Aren’t you at training camp?”

“Not yet. Not officially.”

“Well, unofficially, stay there. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Monika and Louis stopped by.”

“… from London?”

He felt the need to clarify, “It was Louis’ idea.”

“Of course. Are they staying?”

“I don’t think so. Monika said it was just for tonight.”

“Okay… Call me when they’re gone?”

“Of course. Bye, Basti.”

“Bye. Oh! Wait. I figured out what ‘ilysm’ stood for.”

“Oh yeah? Does that mean you’re going to say it back?”

“You wish.”

“I do.”

“Bye, Luki. Try not to break any bones over there, will you?”

“I’ll try my best. Talk soon.”

Later, when he met up with Monika and Louis, who clung onto him again, he got another message from Basti.

_-I’m bae. ;)_

_-Did I do it right?_

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey anon! I did the thing & fit your idea in kinda! Thank you for your input. ^^ Anyway. Schweinski gives, schweinski taketh away. Oh, Lulu, I hope you’re having fun in Galatasaray! Schweini… YOU’RE IN THE WRONG RED. Happy belated schweinskiss day. ^^ Aka. Happy weltmeister day.
> 
> Up next: B Schweini singing 'Jealous' by Nick Jonas. Yo. And, a lot of talking, I think.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I wanted to title this chapter: long distance drama or a metric shit ton of words. In other words, boring. But, eeeh. Hopefully, you’ll find some amusement. You’ll see what I mean.

**State of the Union**

.

Bastian moved his jaw in circles, twisted his lips as the muscles in his face contracted and stretched from side to side. No matter what he did, his mouth seemed permanently set in a hard line as soon as he stopped.

Looking back at the whole of his reflection, he caught the other lines around his eyes and his mouth.

He frowned, trying to recall if Lukas had any such markings, but couldn’t remember anything past his smile. When his thoughts slipped to how Monika still looked flawlessly perfect in the photos he found, he smacked the sides of his face with both hands. Sighing, he gave up, and turned away from his reflection completely.

After dinner an hour ago, Bastian had declined all invitations to explore the local area around their camp base. He had claimed he was tired—to some others he said he was too old—to be wandering out at night, but he had actually wanted to stay back to call Lukas to make sure he was doing alright after his injury.

Lukas had never called him back yesterday, and he hadn’t minded that much at the time. However, in light of the pictures that had popped up throughout the alerts he had set for Lukas—not that he’d confess to keeping track of Lukas using something as banal as Google alerts—, Bastian was feeling a bit abandoned.

In all the articles written about Lukas recently, it seemed the most popular ones heralded his regained status as a family man and his fortune to have such a loving family, especially with rumors of marriage troubles just a week ago.

All of the articles were supported with annoyingly high resolution pictures.

Still, Bastian saved a few of them, the ones where Louis and Lukas were especially clingy, to a hidden folder on his laptop.

He toyed with the idea of digitally inserting himself into the pictures but figured he wasn’t that desperate yet.

Letting his shoulders fall along the wall behind him, he thought it could have and should have been him there for Lukas even though he knew it was impossible. Even if they weren’t keeping their relationship a secret, he and Lukas were kept separated by obligations to his own club duties if nothing else.

He fidgeted on his bed; his fingers itched.

He could hear nothing but the sounds of his own loud, tapping fingers against his laptop.

Making a decision, he snatched his phone from off to the side, and his shaky fingers hovered over Lukas’ name. But, instead of calling Lukas, he scrolled past to the M’s looking for Monika’s name. Not finding her, he remembered he didn’t have Monika’s number.

Going to the S section, he sent a message to Sarah to ask for Monika’s number.

A slow minute later, he got it, ignoring the inquisitive _why_ attached.

The call went through before he realized he’d already gone ahead and dialed her.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Basti,” he fumbled. Untying the knots in his tongue, he corrected himself, “I mean, hey, it’s Basti.”

“I figured,” she remarked in laughter. “Hi, Basti. It’s weird that you didn’t show up on my caller ID. I guess I never had your new number? Oh, well. I’ve got it now. How are you?”

“Fine, fine. And you?”

“I’m good.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah… So, what’s up?”

“Nothing much.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then… How’s camp?”

“It’s good, too.”

“Uh-huh… Nothing new?”

“Not really.” He pursed his lips, scrabbling to think of some way to broach the topic.

“So… Did Sarah tell you I went with Louis to visit her in Greece? We visited Athens for a bit to see the ruins and museums for Louis before going to one of the smaller islands.”

“Sarah showed me some pictures.” He recalled flipping through the album Sarah had shared with him through email and forwarding some of Louis’ pictures to Lukas just in case. Bastian knew the doting father habit of Lukas’ hadn’t waned with time at all. “When did Louis learn how to swim?”

“A couple of years ago, I think, when Lukas and I… just on some boat trip. It’s not important. Lukas taught him.”

“The water wasn’t cold there?”

“Kind of, but definitely warmer than London. And… cleaner. Really beautiful if you don’t mind all the people.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah… It was.”

“Mhmm.”

“Have you ever been?”

At a lost and aware he was making her uncomfortable, he blathered, “A couple of time for matches, I think. But, not really for vacationing.”

“You should go. Some other time, I guess, when you’re free?”

“I will… It’s too bad you couldn’t have stayed longer.”

“Well, Louis had school... Otherwise, who knows?”

“Right!” He exclaimed. “I forgot to ask before. How is Louis?”

He needed to prolong the conversation until he could convince himself he was ready. However, even when he was, he kept backing out at the last moment, answering instead in short, clipped replies. He wasn’t sure if that was better than him rambling.

“Same as always, I guess.”

“And, how are you?”

She tittered nervously, “I think we went over that.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright. I’m good, in case you forgot.”

“That’s good…”

“So…,” she cleared her throat. “Not that this isn’t nice, but is there anything else you wanted?”

“What do you mean? I wanted to catch up.”

He pinched himself hard for giving up a prime opportunity to ask what he really wanted.

“Okay—and don’t be offended when I ask—but, why? We’ve never really talked before. And, I bet you had to ask Sarah or Lukas for my number. Now that I think about it, I’ve never had your number either. So, why?”

It appeared Monika wasn’t going to let him off easy. She was shrewder than he thought.

He stammered out a stilted response, “Can’t I just see how you’re doing?”

“You can, sure. But, are you sure that’s all?”

“Maybe?”

“Lovely talk then. Goodbye, Basti.”

He let out a small noise of distress. “Wait! Sorry. Don’t go. You were right!”

“I had a feeling.”

“I just… I wanted to thank you,” he began.

“For what?”

“For being there for Poldi when I wasn’t.”

“When do you mean?”

“Yesterday when he got injured. You were there with Louis.”

“Oh… That was nothing. It was a coincidence.”

Uneasily traversing the around real reason he called, he insisted, “Still, thank you.”

“Hey, we’re all friends, right? And, I mean, he’s still the father of my son. We’ll always have that connection at the very least.”

His turmoil grew at her words. “Right…”

“So, is that it?”

Dumbly, he countered, “I don’t know. _Is_ it?”

“Basti, please…”

“I mean, _is_ that it, though?” He tried again.

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“You’re going to have to.”

“I can’t.”

"You know what, Basti? You really need a moment to yourself, I think. So, I’m going to hang up, and we can talk when you’re more… when you’ve got less in you.”

“I haven’t been drinking!”

“Are you sure? You’ve been making less sense than a five year old.”

“Sorry, I know,” he murmured. “Sorry.”

“Whatever else you have to say, please just say it? Spell it out for me if you have to. And, I’ll help you if I can. I just can’t read minds, and this thing is giving me a headache.”

Closing his eyes, he ashamedly repeated, “Sorry…”

“It’s alright. Go ahead. Go on.”

He counted to three and mentally rehearsed what he was going to say before he said it. Still, it came out unclear. “Why… Why are you really helping us? Me and Lukas, I mean.”

“What do you mean why? You said it yourself. I want to avoid the media.”

Her halted prose made him pause as well.

“You could go somewhere else until it died down.”

“Well, you know, running away doesn’t solve everything.”

She didn’t sound nearly as assured as she did at the beginning of their conversation. Her voice seemed an octave lower and wobbled at parts.

In contrast, his voice grew harder and more persistent with his suspicions fueling him.

“But, it’s hard for you to find someone else like this, right? Are you sure there isn’t some other reason?”

She didn’t respond immediately. More hesitance. “What did you say?” She asked finally.

“Isn’t there? I mean, you can’t find someone else if you keep pretending to be with Lukas. So, there has to be—”

“Excuse me?” She snapped.

Bastian flinched at the sudden high and sharp pitch she acquired.

“How—how _dare_ you?!”

Caught off guard, he steadied his phone using both hands as he sat dumbstruck. “What?”

“How dare you?!” She shouted again, her voice gaining a less brittle edge to it. “I can’t—yeah, it’s hard to find someone else, you bastard.”

“I was just—”

“You were just what? Reminding me that I haven’t gotten anyone now? Well, maybe I don’t need anyone! Have you thought about that? That I am happy?”

“I wasn’t saying you weren’t. I’m sorry, I—”

“Yeah, you _are_ sorry, aren’t you? You’re a sorry excuse for a _friend_. You ruin my marriage, my family, my _life_ , and you actually—God, even before that! You just had to take it one step too far and make all those jokes real! You stupid, stupid— _ooh_!—you stupid _wanker_.”

“I’m sorry, Monika. Calm down. Didn’t you say you were okay—”

“Screw you! Calm down? No. No, I can’t believe you. Where do you even get off _—_?!”

He stared at his phone as she screamed some more at him.

“Ugh! Just, screw off, Basti. And, cut your damn hair! You look—you look like—”

“… a wanker?”

“You are _not_ helping!... You potato with sour cream. Go to hell!”

He flinched more at her volume than her words.

Breathing quietly through the silence, he braced himself for more of Monika’s berating until he heard the dial tone and finally could relaxed.

That conversation hadn’t gone as planned at all.

Five minutes later, as he sat on his bed, still shell shocked, his phone rang again, and he prepared himself for the continued onslaught.

However, the voice that came loudly through his phone was most definitely not Monika.

“You inconsiderate asshole! What did you say to her?”

“Sarah?”

“Yeah, you jar of mayonnaise. It’s me. What did you say to her?”

Thrown off by yet another odd insult, Bastian didn’t even have a response.

“Basti, what did you say to her?!”

“I didn’t say anything. She just started screaming at me!” He defended as he matched her volume.

Sarah scoffed audibly at him. “Oh, grow up. So she raised her voice. You deserve more than just yelling for what you did to her.”

“What did I do?”

“You tell me!”

“We were just talking.”

“God, I shouldn’t have given you her number first without even—this is all my fault. I shouldn’t have given you her number. It’s all my fault. Wait, no. No, it’s not. It’s _your_ fault. It’s your damn fault. Damn it, Basti! What were you talking about?”

“Nothing, Sarah.”

“She was crying, Basti. It couldn’t have been ‘nothing.’”

“She was crying?”

“Yeah, you milk curd. She was crying. So, what the fuck did you say to her?”

Bastian squinted his eyes and looked at his phone before responding, “I—”

“And, I want you to think carefully before you give me an answer because I’ve got a lot of free time on my hands and a penchant for murder mysteries.”

“ _Sarah_ , we were just making some small talk, and—”

“ _And…_?!”

“And, nothing!”

“I told you not to lie to me.”

“It wasn’t anything important.”

“What did you say, Basti?”

He breathed harshly. “I asked her why she was really helping us. Me and Poldi.”

“You did what? Why would you ask that?”

“I was curious. It’s not like she can date anyone else. It just didn’t make sense when I thought about it.”

“Oh, I can’t believe this. You—you bagel with cream cheese! Are you kidding me? Why, Basti, why would you care? Don’t you and Poldi benefit anyway? Why would it matter why?”

“I was curious.”

“Okay, that’s great. Now do it again but try being more honest this time,” she stated dismissively.

“I was.”

“You are hopeless!”

He crossed an arm over his chest. “I’m kinda getting sick of getting yelled at, Sarah.”

“Fuck cares? It’s true. You are. Do you realize how lucky you are? If Moni didn’t give a shit about you two… If Moni didn’t care… If Moni were petty, you’d have a lot more to deal with than me yelling at you. Did you even think about that when you tried poking your huge nose where it doesn’t belong?”

No, he didn’t. But, he didn’t want to admit that.

Of course, she made her own conclusions anyway.

“That’s what I thought. Did you even think about apologizing to her?”

“I did!”

“And not in the way where you just wanted her to calm down and didn’t know what else to do?”

He licked his lips, chapped and dry. “It wasn’t my fault! I asked a question. Shouldn’t I have a right to ask? How was I supposed to know she’d take it so badly?”

“Fuck. Damn it, Basti. _No_! You have no rights. As of now, I’m taking all of your right away. You don’t deserve them. So, just shut up and listen because I will explain things to you like you’re five, and you will be grateful. First, Did you see the headlines today?”

“Didn’t you tell me to shut up and listen?”

Pausing between each word, she seethed as she repeated her question, “Did you see the headlines today?”

“What headlines?” He replied flatly. He hadn’t seen anything other than what he sought, but nothing in particular came to mind.

“Exactly! Because there were no headlines for you to care about. And, _that’s_ because Monika’s been helping you with damage control. And, if you think for one second that you and Poldi wouldn’t be deep in shit if it weren’t for her, then I’ve overestimated you. So, think about your question again, Basti. The one you just had to ask. Why is Moni helping you? Does it matter to you? No. Should it? No. Just no. What you should care about is that she’s helping you at all, and you should be worshipping the ground she walks on and kissing her ass. But, instead, she gets you questioning her motives.”

He swore in consideration. “I fucked up.”

“Now he gets it.”

”… Do you think she’s mad enough to… do something?”

“God, is it tiring for you? To be that selfish?”

“Sarah, I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“Sarah.”

“Bastian.”

“Sarah.” His old worries were returning. “Sarah, please. I’m sorry.”

She sighed, and he squirmed.

Finally, she gave him an answer. “I wouldn’t blame her if she did and neither should you… But, I honestly doubt Moni would.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank her,” she corrected smoothly. “Later. _After_ you tell me why you decided to start acting like an ass.”

“I told you I didn’t think it was a big deal—”

“Nope. No. No, no. Bad, Basti. What did I say before?”

“Sorry…”

“Again, say that to _her_.”

“I will.”

“Mhmm… Now, again? Without all the extra commentary that makes me want to rip _your_ hair out.”

“I was being stupid…”

“Okay, sounds like you’re on the right track.”

He slid further down his bed and turned onto his side. He closed his laptop screen, shutting away the articles he’d been reading. “I saw pictures of her with Louis and Lukas in Italy, and I… I was being stupid.”

“You were jealous.”

Knowing Sarah would call him out on his bullshit if he didn’t, Bastian confessed, “I was jealous, and I felt like shit.”

“Well, that’s not surprising. You’ve always been the jealous type. I had hoped you’d change with Lukas, but I guess not.”

“Way to kick me when I’m down.”

“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way, Basti, really, and I wish I could help, but still, you have to remember that that’s no excuse for dragging Monika or anyone else into things and making them a victim of your insecurities, especially when you have no idea what Monika’s been going through.”

“I’m sorry. I know, I’ll tell her, too.”

“Good… You’re learning.”

“Thanks, Sarah.”

“No problem. But, you know… You should trust Lukas more. Your relationship with him is frankly disgustingly adorable. And, honestly, a tiny part of me was hoping you’d break up at the beginning, but you won me over pretty fast. So… that says something.”

“I do trust him, though.”

“Mmm… I heard Lukas was better now?”

“Yeah… Why do I feel like I’ve stepped into a trap?”

“You haven’t. I was just thinking that if you trust him so much, then maybe it’s time to tell him about your knee.”

“I have and no.”

“Basti, I know it’s been acting up again. Don’t even think about lying because I am on a roll today.”

“I’ll tell him eventually.”

“I’ve seen your pictures from your games and training, and I’m sure Poldi will, too, if he hasn’t already. He’s going to ask you about it.”

“Keeping tabs on me? That’s sweet,” he deflected.

“Shut up. It’s not me; it’s my dad. He still thinks I’m going to marry the _fussbolgott_ one day. And, any chance you and Poldi are coming out soon? Because I’d really like to tell him that the _fussbolgott_ is currently in a very happy relationship with his fellow _weltmeister_ and then let him squirm before I tell him he’s way off.”

Bastian grimaced. “No, Sarah.”

“Maybe sometime soon.”

“Maybe.”

“So,” Sarah said, sidestepping another matter altogether. “What are you afraid of? Do you think Poldi only loves you because you can play football? Give him some credit.”

“No? I know it’s not just that. I know—”

A chirp from the other end interrupted his thoughts.

“Mmm… Damn it. Monika’s calling me. I have to take it. Oh, she made me promise not to call you after I hung up on her, so you better not tell her we talked. At all. Because, again, free time and murder mysteries. Remember what I said, okay, Basti? Promise me?”

“I promise. Thanks, Sarah.”

“Hold onto that thought and don’t think I’m not calling again. Night.”

“Night.”

He hung up immediately, thankful to get off the phone with her.

Bastian willed his heart to calm down. He had himself convinced he’d call Lukas another time when his phone burst out in a melody of Sir Mix-a-Lot’s “Baby Got Back,” confusing and startling himself with its suddenness. Seeing Lukas on the caller ID, he figured anyone could have changed it, including Lukas himself.

Silencing the Sir and his proclamation of love for big bottoms, Bastian answered it.

“Poldi?”

“Hey, Basti. You okay?”

“Yeah. Great timing, I was just thinking about calling you, too.”

“Good thing I saved you the trouble, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“I miss you.”

“Miss you, too.”

“Where are you? Is it safe to talk?”

“Yeah. I’m just in my room.”

“Good…”

“This sounds serious, Poldi. Anything wrong? Your leg is okay, right?”

“Yeah, it'll be fine. It's not that. Actually, I don’t want you to freak out, but…”

Bastian licked his lips anxiously. He gripped his phone tightly with one hand and the bed sheets with the other. He dreaded all the possibilities of Lukas’ words.

“Basti, are you there?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t freak out when I tell you, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed slowly.

“Okay... So… I’ve been thinking about retiring from the national team.”

Bastian heard the edges of his phone creak.

When Bastian didn’t respond, Lukas quickly followed up with more clarification that he hoped would soothe him. “But, not until after the Euros… I know you don’t understand, but I wanted you to know. Basti? Are you still there? I’m sorry. Do you hate me?”

It certainly wasn’t the betrayal that Bastian was expecting, but he was left speechless for yet another time that night.

“Basti?”

Then again, it wasn’t as if Lukas had actually done anything without telling him first, so was it really betrayal? He only said he had been ‘thinking’ about it. As it was, Bastian was the one who was keeping secrets.

“I’m still here.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Why do you want to retire?”

“Do you really want to do this, Basti?”

“Yeah. I do,” he said petulantly.

“Fine, Basti. You know I’m not young anymore, and I—”

“Miro was thirty six before he retired, and I’m older. You’re not even thirty yet.”

“Yet. And, I’ve already done so much with the team.”

“There’s always more.”

“It’s been eleven years, Basti.”

“So?”

“We won the World Cup. That’s the big one, and not a lot of people even get that.”

Twelve would be Lukas’ swan song, he thought. The words felt odd as they left his mouth. “Twelve years.”

“Twelve good years.”

“A couple of months ago, you said it wouldn’t happen. You wanted to fight for your spot.”

“A couple of months ago was half a year and two injuries ago in the same leg from the same old injury.”

“That’s—that’s…,” he faltered. “You’re fine, okay? You’re fine. You said so.”

“I’m trying, Basti. I am. But, if not me, it could be someone else that Jogi calls up instead. Someone young and stupid like we were,” he suggested, trying to appeal to sentiment.

“Jogi wouldn’t.”

“I’m doing this for him, too. This is his way out just as much as it is mine.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I tell you everything.”

Bastian pulled at the skin on his thigh.

“I’ll still be playing after next year, Basti. Just not for Germany.”

“Wait a couple more years, and we can retire together,” he bargained.

Lukas laughed at his optimism.

“I’m serious.”

“And how long’s that going to take, _Captain_ Schweinsteiger?”

Sooner than you think, he wanted to admit. His hand moved to his knee and started to rub it absentmindedly.

“I haven’t been captain for long,” Bastian said instead, and it came out sounding like he wanted to be captain for more than a couple of years.

Lukas apparently thought the same. “I’m not saying you should retire, too, mein hase. It’ll be fun for me. Different. Watching the games with the rest of the fans. Maybe they’ll even let me sit in the WAGs section. What do you think?”

He didn’t trust himself to respond.

“You know, it wasn’t easy to think about.”

“I know.”

“Are you still mad?”

“I’m not mad…”

“I swear to God, if you say you aren’t mad, you’re disappointed, I will have to kill you.”

His joke sounded forced to Bastian.

Clamoring for his laptop, he said, “I wasn’t. I’m just. This came out of nowhere for me. We should be talking face to face. I need to see your face.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Are you near your laptop?”

“Yeah. Hold on.”

Bastian sat up and set the laptop on his thighs. He exited out of the news tabs he had been reading before he opened up his videochat. Almost instantly, he received a request from Lukas.

He couldn’t help but let a small smile overcome him upon seeing Lukas’ face.

He didn’t recognize the walls behind him. It reminded him that he hadn’t seen Lukas’ new apartment yet and that they hadn’t seen each other at all since they last saw each other in person a week ago.

It felt longer to him.

Catching his smile, Lukas grinned broadly in return. “There he is.”

“Yep.”

“Basti… If I’m going to do this, I’m going to need your support. I won’t do anything until you’re okay with it.”

“It’s your decision, Poldi.”

“Maybe, but it’d affect the both of us.”

“It’s got nothing to do with me.”

“I know you don’t mean that.”

“I don’t, but I want to.” He suddenly regretted asking to videochat. Seeing his Lukas talk about retiring just made it more real. “I’m tired. Can we talk more tomorrow?”

“It’s not that late.”

“It’s an hour ahead here.”

“Don’t go, Basti.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Bastian mustered up another smile and shut his laptop before Lukas could say anymore.

Pushing his laptop aside, he slunk down and stared straight up at the ceiling.

Unfortunately, in his periphery, he saw his phone light up.

‘I love you,’ it said.

And, that was enough to make him jump out of bed and slip on his running shoes.

Avoiding, all people and questions, he snuck outside. And, once outside, he threw himself into running. He was desperate to run until he didn’t have energy to think, desperate enough to keep going even when the prickling needles sticking insistently in his knee reminded him of what he actually was running from.

.

Sometime later, he threw up on the side of the road and decided it was time to go back. It took him almost twice as long to get back, but it was worth it. After he cleaned himself up, he thought he felt slightly better.

He checked his phone out of habit.

‘I’m sorry,’ was the next message.

He threw up again, nearly missing the toilet, and instead of replying, he called Manuel.

Throat raw, he asked, “What’re you doing?”

“Basti? Out with the others. We invited you, but someone said he was too old to come along.”

“Where are you?”

“Why? You coming?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh-huh…”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Didn’t ask to. We’re at a bar in town. I’ll message you the directions.”

“Thanks.”

A short shower and a change of clothes later, Bastian was on his way out. Stopping at the door, he held his phone in his palm.

When it lit up with another message from Lukas, Bastian averted his eyes and tossed it back onto his bed, leaving for the night.

He had had enough for one day. 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And then when he wakes up, he finds himself very much naked and very much in Manu’s room. I’m kidding. OR AM I. Oh ho ho ho. That’d be a nice way to wake up though, personally speaking. I hope you liked the chapter. ^^ I also think I’ve finally settled on where I’ve wanted to end the story so far, and that’s nice. Only problem is the bits in between. ;O Also, I don’t know if those anons who brought it up are still reading this, but I thought I’d briefly touch upon Basti’s current girlfriend/fiancée as well. It won’t be much, but it felt weird acknowledging everything else that was happening in their lives and ignoring that. But, yeah. After this chapter, I think I can finally move along faster. Christmas for them took forever... ;O Also. Want to know what Basti got Poldi & vice versa? Oh ho hohoho. I need sleep. Scratch that. I need to study. 
> 
> School’s starting soon, and I already have ish to memorize and study for… which I should’ve been studying for the entire summer, but… shit happens. :D Also, I have no idea when my job training starts. Why. Why have they not called me. ,_,
> 
> #havesomeslashonyourdash


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, I officially started working. Exciting. And freaking tiring. One day, and I am done. If this is how the rest of my life is going, the best years are over. Stick a fork in me. I sat at my laptop for like hours just blanking out so hard. Enjoy. Written with my sweat and tears. Edit: And then I messed up on the second day already. I am terrible at adulting.

**State of the Union**

.

The first night was fun. Great, even.

For the younger players, it was rare opportunity to spend time with their much admired senior outside of practice or sponsored events, so they tried to make the most of the opportunity. Or, rather, they went beyond that and took advantage of it.

Like Manuel had said, they had been at a bar. First, anyway. Soon after, it was another bar, then a club, and then another bar after the club.

Mitchell and David pulled the others to place after place just in order to prolong the night, and Bastian took it in stride. Better than that even.

Thomas thought he saw him chatting up a few of the local girls as well, though that was as far as it went. He wondered if Bastian was finally moving on from Sarah.

They only stumbled their way back after Philipp had woken with a fright and hadn’t heard raucous horseplay outside his door. And, after a cursory bed check of the usual culprits, he discovered a number of them were missing and called to threaten with vague and varied punishments—some possibly illegal in retribution—to get them back.

Although, it wasn’t a complete lost. The next night, Bastian came out with them again. And then again the next night as well.

By the fourth night, it was expected for Bastian to come with them.

However, while Bastian’s presence was welcome, Thomas decided to take it upon himself to figure out what exactly was going on with their usually elusive vice captain. He figured he would’ve gone back to his cave by now and they wouldn’t see him out at night until the sponsors came at him with pitchforks and torches.

Naturally, he wanted to first confer with Manuel about the odd development.

Thomas clumsily stepped around—and in some cases, over—the others and even some strangers to head to where he knew he was bound to locate Manuel, the bar.

Poking his head in between Manuel and another unfamiliar girl, Thomas awkwardly interrupted an already ongoing conversation to pull Manuel aside.

“You’ll get him back,” Thomas promised, but he wasn’t sure she could understand him even if without his accent.

Manuel grunted in protest as he narrowly saved his drink from spilling. He took a sip as he glared at Thomas.

“Shh,” he commanded, dragging him straight out to the bar’s patio.

Thomas looked around shiftily, continuing to do so until Manuel whacked his arm.

“Ow,” he sulked.

Nursing his glass, Manuel made an impatient motion with his other hand to urge Thomas to get on with it.

As he watched Manuel on what was clearly not even his second drink of the night, Thomas had second thoughts.

“Basti’s here again, huh?” He started, not going for subtlety. “What do you think?”

“What do you mean what do I think? I drink so I don’t have to think.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

“He likes bars.”

“But, when was the last time he went out with us?”

Pausing to take a long drink, Manuel answered, “Yesterday night.”

“Before this,” Thomas clarified as he gestured widely with his arms, trying to encompass all of Qatar.

Manuel focused on tracing the inside edge of the glass and collected the foam on his fingertips. Bringing his finger to his mouth, he tasted the last remaining bits of alcohol left. “Who knows?”

“So, it is weird.”

“Who knows?” He repeated, lazily lapping at his fingers. “Just forget it, Thomas. Have fun. Have a drink. Almost time for Philipp to call us back.”

“You really don’t care?”

He lifted his glass up to the moonlight and scrutinized it with distaste. He pursed his lips, seeming to be in great thought, before declaring, “Nope.”

Thomas let Manuel leave, tightlipped as he was, he’d be no help, especially if Thomas didn’t have anything to go on yet. On instinct, he knew Manuel knew something.

The next morning, Thomas’ suspicions were confirmed.

Sometime after they came back from the bar and Thomas fell asleep, Manuel had sent him a text.

_-Try Poldi._

Barely awake but overly excited, he hastily replied, ‘Wow whole pole now?’

_-…_

_-Basti_ _- >_ _Poldi_

‘Gotcha.’

_-We’ll see._

Thomas considered calculating the time difference into when would be the best time to message Lukas but concluded that he did not care. A text message was already informal enough.

Before getting out of bed to ready himself for practice, Thomas wrote another message, to Lukas this time. As with Manuel, he didn’t want to beat around the bush too much.

‘FLoGF, is your bavarian creampuff okay?’

When he came back from his shower, he checked his phone again to see an already awaiting response.

_-Go back to bed. Skip practice. Tell Manu to tell Pep you hit your head. Hard._

He tried to remember whether they were behind or ahead of Milan and typed out another message all the same.

‘I just want to make sure he’s okay.’

_-Who?_

‘Basti=your bavarian creampuff, no?’

_-No._

‘You sure?’

 _-Yes_.

‘But is he okay?’

_-How should I know?_

‘Basti=your bavarian creampuff, maybe?’

_-Got shit in your eyes?_

‘Just dein hase then.’

_-I told you guys it was a joke._

‘Don’t worry. Everyone’s still laughing about it.’

_-What’s wrong with Basti?_

‘So you don’t know anything?’

_-Haven’t talked to him in about a week._

‘About five days ago?’

_-How would I know?_

‘Less or more than week.’

_-Less?_

‘Oh.’

_-What?_

‘Nothing.’

_-What’s going on with Basti?_

‘Was worried. Miro’s fault.’

‘Basti’s just been acting weird. Going out to the bars with us a lot.’

‘Been something like five days.’

Thomas didn’t get any message from Lukas after that, but he had enough to go back to Manuel.

.

Jogging alongside him during warm-ups, Thomas poked Manuel.

“Psst. Psst, Manu.”

Manuel batted his hand away and picked up his pace.

Undeterred, Thomas followed him until they were leading the group around the training grounds. “Psst!” He was loud enough to draw stares from even the amused and curious bystanders.

“What?”

“I talked to Poldi.”

“And?”

“I think I know.”

“We’ll see. _Later_ ,” he stressed.

“Okay.”

A silent moment passed between them, comfortable but not Thomas’ style.

“Psst,” he hissed again.

“ _What_?”

“What did the pony tell his vet?”

“No.”

“C’mon. Guess.”

“No.”

“Guess.”

“No.”

“He said he was a little _horse_. Get it? You get it?”

Staring upwards, he beseeched, “Thomas, please.”

“Where do you go when your horses are sick?”

“To hell?”

“To the _horsepital_.”

“Please. Not again.”

“What do you call a horse that lives next door?”

“No, Tommy.”

“A _neighbor_.”

“Please. Thomas.”

“What—”

Preemptively cutting him off, Manuel chortled, bordering on crazy. He had had it. “Hey!” He shouted and clapped Thomas on his back to get his attention. “I’ve got a joke for _you_. What did the light bulb say to the idiot?”

“I don’t know,” Thomas replied, eager to get to the punchline. “What?”

“C’mon. Guess.”

Still grinning, he took a wild shot in the dark. “Umm. Lighten up?”

“No. He said to go _screw_ himself. Get it? You get it, right? Now screw yourself and shut up.”

Put out by Manuel’s attitude, Thomas huffed, “Well, you don’t look too bright for a light bulb. You ingrate.”

Ignoring his words, Manuel pulled back from Thomas and dropped back next to Juan’s side.

“Hey, Manu. Much yelling and laughter from you and Thomas. You two tell each other jokes?”

“Something like that.”

“Ooh! I have jokes. Really great ones,” Juan chattered excitedly. He cleared his throat, and Manuel tensed but was unable to stop him. Seemingly all in one breath, Juan began and ended, “What did the pony tell his vet? You give up? He said he was a little _horse_.”

“Uh-huh… Did Thomas tell you that?”

“No, I tell him that. Cause he likes horses. I tell him a lot of horse jokes ‘cause they’re his favorite land animal. Is funny, right? Languages are hard but funny.”

Not wanting to hurt Juan’s feelings, Manuel replied, “Hilarious.”

“I have more if you want!”

“Maybe later, Juan.”

As soon as he turned away from Juan, he let his smile drop and took his chances with Rafinha.

Unfortunately, Rafinha had been following Manuel’s troubles from the start and smirked at the keeper.

Manuel immediately warned him, “Don’t.”

“Aww, Manu… why the long face?”

Without missing a beat, Manuel blindly called out to the group, “Hey! Who likes horse jokes? Tell me now!”

From near his left, Arjen suddenly erupted, “Damn it, Manu! Are you the one spreading those stupid horse jokes?! For shit’s sake, I get the fucking same joke from five different people every damn day. I don’t _care_ if they’re a little horse, just take them to the vet!”

For all the jokes he could and couldn’t handle, it was the accusation that made Manuel feel his soul leave his body. Doubling his efforts, Manuel ran to the front again, pausing just once to give Thomas a slight shove. Nothing he couldn’t handle, but just enough to make him have to catch himself.

Juan, on the other hand, reacted differently to the misdirected accusations. “Oh, no! Arjen, you don’t like? I’m sorry, Arjen. I made those bad horse jokes! Don’t blame Manu. Manu _es inocente_. I’m the bad one.”

“Shit, Juan. It was you?”

Nodding profusely, he weaved through the others and leapt to Arjen’s side.

He grabbed his arm to plead forgiveness. “I’m sorry. Don’t be mad at Manu. Manu _es inocente_.”

“Yeah, okay. I got it, Juan. I’m not mad at Manu anymore,” Arjen indulged.

His lip quivered in skepticism. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I know. It’s okay. Really. Yeah… You don’t have to—please stop looking at me with your face like that.”

“Why? You don’t like my face either? I’m sorry, Arjen.” His bit into his trembling lips to stop them but only made the trembling more prominent.

In full view of the face of heartbreak, one that reminded him of his children, Arjen panicked as he tried to pry Juan off to no avail.

“Arjen, please.”

.

Thomas decided not to approach Manu until later, giving him enough time to calm down after the horse humor fiasco earlier that day. However, he couldn’t avoid it for too long. They would be going out again that night.

During dinner, Thomas locked eyes with Manu to communicate he’d be coming to talk to him soon.

Unfortunately, Manuel apparently didn’t get the message.

Thomas had slipped in unnoticed right behind Manuel and couldn’t wait to get all of their stories and bits of information together. Bouncing down onto the bed, Thomas started, “So, I—”

“Fucking shit!” Manuel exclaimed in surprise, shocking Thomas as well. “What the fuck. I thought you were a ghost. Or that girl from yesterday.”

“Why would—You didn’t notice me following you?”

“Our rooms are in the same area. Why would I think you were following me?”

“I thought you got my signal!”

“Do you have any idea how many beers I had with dinner? There’s more than one reason we walk everywhere.”

Thomas played his silence against Manuel.

Uncomfortably, Manuel ventured, “So what’d you find out?”

“Basti and Poldi haven’t been talking for about as long as Basti’s been out with us.”

“And?”

“And that’s it, isn’t it? That’s why he’s been going with us.”

Manuel knit his eyebrows together as he carefully waited for Thomas to elaborate. “Which means?”

“Which means since Basti has time now, he decided to spend it with us.”

“Okay, but what does that _mean_?”

“Basti likes to talk to Poldi more than us. A lot more.”

“So?”

“It’s a little sad, but he probably has more in common with Poldi. Like that they’re both old farts.”

“I miss when you were on the right track.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.”

“You know something.”

“I do not.”

“You do.”

“I don’t know anything that isn’t my business.”

“You do know. What is it?”

“Not my business. Not yours.”

“Is there—Is there actually something between Basti and Poldi?”

“Neither of those people are you. Not your business.”

“It’s not. I know that. I respect both of them a lot. But, I’m only trying to know so I can help if I can. What’s going on, Manu? Did they finally—it happened, didn’t it?”

“What’s there to help?”

“You don’t think that. You’re worried, too.”

“There’s nothing wrong.”

“Yeah there is. You know it, too. That’s why you want me to figure it out myself. So that I can help, but so you wouldn’t have to betray them. Aww, Manu, you really do care,” he gushed.

“Shut up.”

“I knew you loved us.”

“Nope.”

“But, I already guessed it, so…”

“Guessing doesn’t count. The media’s been guessing for a decade,” he pointed out before biting down on his lower lip in either hope or frustration.

“So how’d you find out?”

“I can’t answer like that.”

“Fine. I’ll play along.”

Thomas pouted and scrunched up his forehead in deep thought. He hit his head again and again as if to knock the memories loose until finally, he literally knocked some sense into himself.

“That game against… Poland? Or maybe Ireland? The last time we got called up. Mario said something weird happened at the hotel. I forgot to ask you about it because I wanted to show you a picture of a cute baby in a sunflower costume, and… He said someone told him something. Asked about Basti and Poldi’s relationship... Something happened then. They _were_ more ‘them’ than usual around that time…”

As Thomas pondered aloud, Manuel found it harder and harder to stay silent and composed, fidgeting where he stood.

“You came down late. I remember ‘cause you told me to make sure you had enough snacks for the flight back since you had to get all the missing people down. Basti wasn’t there yet… You saw something. That’s when you saw something.”

In as little words as possible, Manuel told him exactly what he saw, nothing more nothing less. “I went up to call them down. Poldi’s room was empty. Basti’s room wasn’t. Basti opened the door, and it didn’t look good.”

“You walked in on them?!”

“No! He opened the door half-naked, and I saw a lot. Use your imagination. Not like that,” he rectified. “Toni saw too cause he walking by.”

“So Toni knows?”

“Maybe. Mes tried to cover for them, too.”

“So, Mes knows.”

“Maybe… why else would he lie, right?”

“Did you actually see Poldi?”

“No, thank God. I asked him some questions, though. Sounded like it to me.”

“But, not for sure.”

“It’s for sure.”

“But, Basti didn’t say so… So…”

“C’mon, Thomas.”

“Fine. We’ll assume. So if something did happen, that’s when it started.”

“Yep. At least that far back.”

“That much doesn’t matter, though, right? What’s important is that we know why Basti’s been so weird.”

“But not exactly why. And it helps to know.”

“Have they ever fought before?”

“Who knows? But we don’t even know if it’s a fight. What if they just decided to take a break. I mean, take some time to spend with their friends, and nothing’s wrong.”

“Since when have they cared about their other friends when they were around each other?”

“True. So, we can both keep an eye on them, just in case.”

“Aww, Manu.”

“It’s for the good of Germany’s national team. Can’t mess with our team’s ease.”

“Sure, Manu. You’re just a big teddy bear, aren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

“C’mere so I can hug you.”

“No.”

“C’mere!”

“No!”

Manuel held his arm out to fend off Thomas’ advances as if Thomas had suddenly declared to murder him rather than simply hug him. Struggling, Manuel grunted out through his teeth, “ _Maybe_ we can force them to make up if we stop letting Basti hang with us?”

“I thought we weren’t going to do anything right now. Why can’t we let him keep coming with us?”

“He’s using us to avoid talking to Poldi about whatever probably. They’ll thank us later. After they kill us for knowing… maybe.”

“Aww, Manu!” Thomas finally and literally jumped in excitement and into Manuel’s arms. “You were really worried about them. You could’ve just told me about it a long time if you wanted to talk to someone about it. It’s okay. They’d understand.”

“Die,” he stated as he reluctantly accepted the embrace. Blowing Thomas' hair out of his mouth, he repeated. “Die.”

.

The next morning over breakfast, Bastian plopped down in a seat next to Manuel and asked about the night before.

“Where were you guys last night?”

“Out,” Manuel said in between chewing his toast.

“I know that. You could’ve waited for me.”

“We tried. It got late.”

“I called, and no one picked up. None of you. What’s going on?”

“Look. It’s nothing alright. We just didn’t want to the kids to keep dragging you out and bothering you.”

“It’s not bothering me.”

“It’s okay,” Manuel declared, trying to turn the tables on Bastian. “We know you’re busy. You don’t have to spend time with us when you got other things to do.”

“I don’t—”

“Or other people waiting,” he said pointedly. He dared to hold Bastian’s gaze purposefully until he saw his eyes flicker in recognition, shock registering.

They both averted their gaze then.

From the other side of Manuel, Thomas had overheard everything and cleared both his and Manuel’s trays, a cue to leave.

Before leaving Bastian to breakfast alone, Manuel suggested with heavy implications, “Do what you always do when you stay behind. It’ll be good.”

Later, Manuel and Thomas felt the subdued anger of their friend during practice, but they didn’t relent, keeping him barred from their outings. They went so far as to stay in for the subsequent nights and organized game nights until Bastian stopped trying with them.

Whatever reason Bastian had for not wanting to talk to Lukas, it had to have been fairly serious, as they feared, if he wanted to avoid talking to Lukas that badly and for that long.

.

Bastian didn’t have to be told that the others would be going off without him again.

He had forgotten something very critical along the way, and now it seemed that he had to pay the consequences. The best time would’ve been when Per and Mesut had made it known that they knew what was going on and called for truth on everything he and Lukas had been up to in secret.

Now, he had to eventually tell Lukas that Thomas and Manuel knew too.

Their secret was becoming less secret and more of a conspiracy than anything.

His hand trembled, and he had to hold his phone tighter to keep it from shaking.

Bastian hadn’t heard from Lukas since a week ago. One forlorn ‘Morning’ greeting that Bastian hadn’t found the will to reply to.

At this point, he figured Lukas was giving him the time and space he inadvertently asked for. Beaten from him.

As he made to dial Lukas’ phone, Bastian suddenly and conveniently remembered that he had still yet to apologize to Monika.

Scrolling past Lukas’ name, he dialed Monika instead.

"Hey, Monika."

“Basti? Hi, how are you doing?”

She had said it in a way that made him flinch. He could hear the effort in it as well as the pain he’d inflicted upon her by just reminding her of his existence. Her cordiality—forced as it was— struck Bastian hard. He felt like he had lost some game in the face of her neverending selflessness.

Straightening his posture even when no one could possibly see, he replied, “Yeah. Hi. I’m good. Thanks. Are you free?”

“To... talk?"

"Yeah."

"I’ve got a minute.”

"If you're busy..."

"No, it's fine. It's not too busy right now."

"What's not?"

"Work. Oh, I got a job! Sorry. I haven't really told many people though."

"Is that okay? With Louis and everything?"

"Yeah, I just pick up a couple of shifts a week. Usually, I don't work nights, but I'm covering for a friend."

"Oh, what do you work as?"

"A beautician. It's what I was doing when I met Lukas."

"That's great. Congratulations."

"Thanks."

“I’m sorry about last time,” he apologized, guilty for taking up her time.

“Oh… That. Okay...”

He tried to remember everything he previously wanted to apologize to her for and practiced but couldn’t quite get everything. “I’m sorry I made you mad— _sad_. I didn’t know—I don’t know how you feel. I can never know—”

“Basti,” she cut in concisely, effectively silencing him. “Okay. It’s okay.”

“I don’t—”

A little too quickly and loud, she interrupted him again, “I said it’s okay, okay? And, I’m sorry, too. For yelling at you.”

“I deserved it,” he stated. “Thanks for listening to me. Sorry for bothering you.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad you called.”

“Really?”

“Yeah...”

“Why?” He blurted. He bit his knuckle. Not being able to stop himself is the very reason why he had so much to apologize for.

“Well… I wanted to talk to you and Poldi about our ‘arrangement.’” Thinking about how badly that sounded, she quickly added, “I mean, of course, I’m still going to keep your secret. But—”

His shoulders tensed, muscles laden with anxiety.

“—I don’t think I should go on any more ‘pretend’ outings with Lukas. Nothing more than strictly necessary. For Louis? Yes. To lie to the media? No. It’s just—I hope you understand.”

“I do. Thank you.”

He did completely understand. And, her news hadn’t been so bad when there were so many other outcomes he had been prepared for in the fraction of a second before her explanation.

“And, it’s not like you need me anymore, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean it’s over, isn’t it?”

He could feel his stress levels rising again. “What do you mean? Did Poldi say something about it being over?”

“No? I figured on my own after they stopped following me out of boredom. No story, no news, right?”

“Oh.”

“Basti, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“If you say so... I’m here if you need to talk.”

“I’m okay.”

“Well, okay. I’m glad you called.”

“Yeah. I’m glad I called, too. Thanks, Monika.”

“It’s no problem, Basti.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Bastian hung up, but he never called Lukas that night.

Or the next.

But, he did keep to his room.

.

Weeks later, with January coming to a close and after returning to Munich, Bastian still hadn’t called Lukas. There were a few risky instances during which he had argued against his more practical self to delete Lukas’ number and semi-permanently avoid temptation. He usually won, though, and Lukas’ number was safe.

Sarah didn’t tell him why she thought so, but she had been more urgently advising that he talk to Lukas.

Bastian wasn’t sure he wanted to ask why.

He didn’t even tell her what had happened the last time they talked, afraid the news would make its way to Monika and then back to Lukas. Nor could he remember if he told her they were fighting, and he certainly didn’t want to bring it up if he hadn’t.

Nevertheless, he saw all the pictures and everything else under the sun regarding Lukas and what he’d been up to since he left for Italy.

A few days after their return to Munich, Manuel had actually told him he was going to Italy. He had said it was for a Giorgio Armani fashion show, but he might see Lukas as well. He asked if Bastian wanted to go, too, but he declined.

Frankly, Bastian didn’t have the balls to say anything in return and dropped him off at the airport in silence.

Manuel had snuck expectant looks that became more and more disappointed with each successive glance the entire time.

It turned out that Manuel did see Lukas—whether by accident or design, Bastian didn’t know. He didn’t ask about that either. However, after spotting the pictures of the fashion show a day later, he had the screaming compulsion to demand an explanation for the man who had been sitting indecently close to Lukas during the show.

When the rage subsided, and he saw it was Fernando Llorente, what he wanted to know next was what—if anything—had happened between the two.

He knew. He inherently knew that Lukas was not a cheater and would not cheat on anyone, let alone Bastian, but Bastian was uncertain where he and Lukas stood. He was reminded of the earlier stages of their relationship.

It was close to a month since the last time there was any semblance of communication between the two. Perhaps that meant they were broken up. Bastian didn’t think so. But, perhaps Lukas did.

He never knew how to define their relationship. Not ten years ago. Not now.

The fact that it was by his own hands that had deepened the confusion and caused the silent rift made Bastian physically hurt.

As punishment, he continued to look through the photos of Lukas again.

Smiling Lukas. Cheery Lukas. What-was-he-doing-now Lukas.

Who was he with?

.

Coming back from yet another practice where he continued to push himself in an endless battle to fend off the doubters who questioned his fitness, Bastian found a package at his door.

He saw no address but casually carried it in with him anyway; he sensed nothing malicious.

It was wrapped innocuously in brown paper and doublewrapped with twine, but underneath the drabness, Bastian found festive wrapping paper.

Lukas had apparently decided to send his Christmas present to him. It had laid unopened with everything that had happened over the winter break. There was just never time to sit down together to open their gifts. However, he figured there would be time, sometime in the future, because he would always come back.

He wondered what Lukas did with the present he got for him. He had been so excited to show him what he had picked out. He was sure he’d like it at the time. There was little confidence leftover now.

The package— _present_ was wide but slim. He hadn’t gotten a good look at it before, and it almost slipped through his clumsy hands.

Sliding his nail under the seam in the wrapping paper as carefully as he could, he took a moment to appreciate Lukas’ crafting ability.

As soon as the wrapping paper was all off, he recognized what laid hidden immediately.

It was impossible not to recognize his face and Lukas’ pressed together with the pitch behind them.

That idiot, Bastian thought, bought back the framed picture of their kiss during the world cup that he had originally donated. Then again, he wasn't sure he wanted anyone else to have bought their precious memory. 

Immediately, even before taking off his coats and scarves and winter things, he dropped the rest of his mail and miscellaneous items to find a place to hang it.

It felt too unsafe to hang it though, he decided, after trying it out in several different locations. Instead, he propped it up on the mantle for guests to see as they entered. It was almost bittersweet to see the two of them in framed perfection, but he walked away to stop himself from changing anything.

.

On January 23rd, 2015, the reports surrounding Lukas Podolski’s retirement from his international career made its rounds, and Bastian stopped looking for more disappointment.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: At this point, Per, Mesut, Monika, and Sarah know about schweinski for sure. Thomas and Manu figured it out for themselves but have not had confirmation. Eek. The secret is becoming less of a secret. How inconvenient. ;) But ahh worried!Manu tries to play it cool. He must’ve been dying to talk to someone about it even if they didn’t end up doing much. ^^
> 
> I am so sorry, but it could be worse. But, they’ve been happy for so many chapters before, this is just a tiny bit of bump in the road for them. They’ll pull through. Trust me, I’m a… shipper…?
> 
> Banana points to anyone who guessed what FLoGF stands for when Thomas first texted Lukas.
> 
> #havesomeslashonyourdash


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I did the thing that I said I would never do. I didn't want to do it, but. Uuuuugh. I had to at least address it. Parallel universe and all that.

**State of the Union**

.

Bastian could have blamed himself for his current predicament, but he’d prefer blaming Andrea who thought he’d appreciate being set up on a surprise blind date.

Put simply, no he did not appreciate the thought, and he’d be setting him straight soon enough. But first, he had to explain things to his ‘date.’

Putting his menu down, Bastian began, “Sorry, I think… there’s been a mistake.”

From across him, Ana followed suit and placed her menu down as well. She arched her brow in question. “Oh?”

“I didn’t know I was meeting you. Andrea said—It doesn’t matter—,” he sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I should go though.”

“No, stay,” she insisted, struggling to find the right words with her limited English, the only language the two seemed to share.

“I don’t want to waste your time.”

“I get it,” she sympathized, leaning in and covering his hand gently with her own. “Andy explained to me. You’re scared.”

“What?”

“You were like me. You have an ex. I know. I know the feeling. I remember. Scared. And, I was very, very sad, too. I see it in you now.”

“No—,” he denied, stopping himself abruptly. It wasn’t that he _wasn’t_ feeling down. He ran carded his hand through his hair, pushing the locks back. Trying to explain, he felt his chest tighten in distress. “This isn’t what I want.”

“Someone new can help make you forget someone old. Andy said—”

“I’m not going to forget,” he hissed loudly.

She was visibly startled by his outburst, as were the other adjacent patrons, and Bastian apologized, unable to meet her uncannily knowing gaze.

Muttering, he apologized, “Sorry.”

The tense pause seemed to stretch for ages between them before she turned her attention back on to the menu before her and announced, “Okay. Not a date then. Friends? We can eat now? I like fish.”

“I can’t—.”

“You said no date, so no date. I understand.”

“Look, I should just go.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We came here to eat. We should eat.”

Bastian fingered the edge of the table in apprehension, ready to leave at a moment’s notice. Eager to leave. “Are you sure?” He asked uneasily.

“Yes.”

He unclenched and clenched his hand and slouched in his seat. “Really?”

“I am not interested in a man with eyes like yours.”

Defensively, he shot back, “What’s wrong with my eyes?”

“They are looking for someone else. Is it your old lover still?”

Bastian pursed his lips, and Ana nodded in acceptance.

“No matter. They barely see me now. Interfering would mean more heartache for all of us. And, there is no sense in adding to our own heartache when the world is already so unkind, do you not agree?”

“I…,” he hesitated. Tapping his feet anxiously he took a deep breath and impulsively decided, “I think I’m getting the caramelle pasta.”

Ana perked up by his declaration. Interested in the unfamiliar dish, she asked, “What is that? I’ve never heard.”

“We can share when it comes.”

“ _Hvala_! You are a good man, Basti. I can call you that?”

“Sure.”

“We should meet again. As friends, of course,” she clarified, picking up her menu once more to search. “I am here until Friday. Andy is leaving tomorrow. You will show me around?”

He nodded quietly in acceptance, tearing bits and pieces of bread into the small plate in front of him as they made conversation.

Her awkward phrasings reminded him of when he and Lukas were younger.

Lukas would flub his English interviews even worse than Bastian did, abruptly stopping occasionally to find the right ones or just mess up the meaning completely. Fortunately, they had improved greatly since then, and he allowed a small smile to grace the corner of his mouth in nostalgia.

.

The following day happened to be Sunday. Bastian usually liked to get a morning run in to keep from getting sluggish before a big game—they’d be playing Shakhtar D in the UCL on the seventeenth—, but he was feeling slightly listless. He turned off his alarm as soon as it sounded and settled in for a late morning.

It was eleven when he woke again to a ringing from his phone. He didn’t bother to look at it before turning it off.

An hour later, Bastian woke for a third time to knocking at his door.

Hoping they’d go away, he ignored it and turned onto his stomach only to jump out of his bed moments later to rush to his door.

When he saw Sarah, he didn’t bother hiding his disappointment.

“Oh. Hey.”

“‘Hey’,” she mocked, walking past him. “Try not to look too happy, Basti. You’ll give me ideas.”

Following her, he sighed, “Sorry. I just—you weren’t who I was expecting.”

“Who were you expecting?”

“No one.”

“No one?”

“No one,” he repeated.

“Not even Ana?”

“Excuse me?”

“So I was having brunch with friends and guess what one of them had to tell me.”

“What?”

“Go ahead. Just guess.”

“Sarah…”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Ana, Basti. Ana. Why did one of our friends ask me how I felt about you moving on with Ana Ivanovic today?”

“Oh.”

“On _Valentine’s Day_ ,” she stressed. “I wish you’d _voluntarily_ tell me things more often, Basti.”

“… It was Valentine’s Day? Hold on, what day is today?”

“The fifteenth. But, it was February 14th when you were having dinner with that woman, a day colloquially known as Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” she said, mercilessly rolling her eyes at him when something on the fireplace mantle caught her eye. A new addition.

“It’s not what you think, Sarah.”

“You don’t know what I think.” She stepped toward the piece and picked it up in amusement. Still, she asked, “I think you had dinner with her, albeit on an unfortunate day, and that’s it. But, it’s being blown out of proportion as usual because it’s you and it’s her and everyone wants to know your business. How did you two even meet?”

“Mutual friend.”

“You haven’t mentioned her before.”

“It’s a… recent development. I think I met her once before.”

“How do you think Poldi will feel about this? Remember last time?”

“He’s fine. He knows. I told him about it last night.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Don’t meddle then.”

“I just want to help.”

“You’re meddling.”

“You’re being stupid.”

“Thanks for your help, Sarah, but I can handle it.”

“Can you?”

“Would you stop?”

“I’m not meddling.”

“Promise me then. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine. Not that I’m saying I’m meddling or I was meddling, but fine. Promise.”

“Good.”

“It’s just… Basti, you’re sounding really nervous; and, it’s making me nervous. You never really told me what happened either…”

“Give it a rest, Sar,” he said in exasperation. “Were you always such a busybody?”

“Forgive me for caring. I just want to know how you two were doing. I haven’t talked to you since last week, and then this happened. You don’t think Poldi will see it, do you?”

“How did your friend see it?”

“The internet.”

He turned his head to face her, and she caught his lackluster expression immediately.

“Oh, Basti… You need to talk to him before he gets the wrong idea.”

Sitting up, he opened his mouth to tell her to stop meddling again but stopped short when he spotted the item in her hands. “Careful with that.”

“It’s cute,” she commented, tracing her fingers along the edges. “I wonder who could have possibly given it to you.”

Quickly, he leapt to her side, trying and failing to snatch it from her hands. “Shut up.”

“When did you get this? I thought it was for a charity thing?”

“A couple of weeks ago.”

“So after you two stopped talking.”

“I guess,” he shrugged.

“Of course you weren’t counting the days… Why?”

“It was a Christmas present.”

“Uh… huh… Well. If he sent this to you after everything, I think you two will be more than fine.” Holding it by her fingertips, she read the handwritten scrawl more carefully.

“Be careful with that!”

“I’m not done looking yet.”

“Look with your eyes.”

Ignoring him, she continued to pretend to critically examine the picture and frame, turning it over in her hand.

“Sarah, give it back.”

“Wait. Hold on.”

“Now.”

“Just hold on.”

“No, Sarah. Put it down.”

Again, he reached for it, and she elbowed him back. As he grew more aggressive, Sarah pushed back, keeping the frame outstretched and away from him. “Basti, what’s the matter with you?”

“Just give it _here_ ,” he grunted and grabbed at it.

She gasped as he knocked the frame out of her hands.

“Fuck!” He dropped to his knees and brushed aside the shards, careful not to scratch or damage the precious picture inside.

“Shit! I’m sorry, Basti.”

She knelt down with him to help pick up the broken glass, but he batted her hands away.

In agitation and slight resentment, Bastian slapped the picture down onto the mantle and abruptly stood. The dusty crystal particles fell to the ground as he declared, “Leave it. You’ll cut yourself.”

“I won’t. I’ll just—”

“Sarah! It’s fine. I’ll clean it up later.”

She look up in consideration and dropped the pieces she held into a neat pile. “I’m so sorry,” she said finally, standing up.

“It’s not your fault.”

“We’ll catch up later?”

“Probably.”

.

On her way home, Sarah pulled out her phone.

“Hey, I need a favor.”

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know this chapter was super short, but I’m having trouble finding time to write. Sorry.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Let’s just call it a year since I updated? :( That makes me sads. Sorry. I’ve been ridiculously busy and haven’t even had much time to tumblr or watch matches or anything fun, really. Hope you enjoy this chapter, still trying to get back into the swing of things. Toodles.

**State of the Union**

.

It was chilly outside; he knew just from looking.

Taking in familiar Germany, through the glass window, he shifted anxiously in his seat. With a lukewarm start to the season at Inter, he wasn’t sure if he belonged back here where the others would be, too.

He fidgeted and pulled his cap low, obscuring his own vision, as other unbidden memories came back to him. For him, Germany had meant the two of them for so long.

It was admittedly foolish on his part to expect the gesture to fix the rift between them. Foolish, but he had hoped. Rather, he _was_ hopeful after the first few weeks after he had sent it. Hope any longer, and he’d even start to pity himself. He was as pathetic and finished like everyone said he was.

_It was the right thing to do._

It just cost him more than he thought. And wasn’t that a kick in the teeth. The most mature thing he’d ever remember doing, and Basti ended up hating him for it.

He shrugged the weight over his shoulder and adjusted the strap of his carryon with practice. By himself, he felt the eyes of passersby slide off him and towards their own destination.

Slipping through the crowds, he hailed a taxi to the hotel that the staff had booked for him.

Contrary to what some might believe, without anyone to nag him about booking flights or match schedules, Lukas was quite capable of arriving on time.

In fact, he was early. There was a marked absence of fans and photographers, and he checked in without further ado.

He noted the flash of recognition in the receptionist’s eyes, but she had little more than simper at him before handing him his room key, and for that, he was thankful.

.

Bastian cast an annoyed glance at his travel companions, dragging them along as they got off the train. Everything about him screamed ‘fuck off or die,’ but that didn’t stop his friends from gawking and goofing off like grade-schoolers. As if this was their first call up. Although, to be fair, he kept a short fuse these days.

They were running late.

He muttered obligatory apologies to the driver and crew that waited for them, forcing his head down in a gesture of humility as he made his way to a seat in the back of the bus. There was a short ride from the train to the hotel, and then he’d be able to sequester himself until… until he wasn’t sure what. There was the odd feeling of _waiting_ in his gut. Something _almost_ happening but not quite there _yet_. It kept him on edge and kept him subdued all at once.

Lost in thought, he hit his knee against the blunt edges of the seat corner. Swearing, he cursed and he cursed and he cursed.

Today was not his day, and he hadn’t even had a chance to remember that he’d forgotten Lukas would be there, too.

His lungs filled with the cold air; he let his head fall back.

The pain in his knee throbbed, and it was a relief for him to have that to focus on instead.

.

Lukas kicked the door shut behind him and dropped his bags before heading straight to the bed in a handful of seconds.

In a handful more, he found some peace within his solitude.

.

The travel weary blond scowled at the girl behind the front desk despite knowing it was beyond her control.

“Look, I’ll just book another room,” he said finally, eager to leave and join the rest of his teammates in their rooms. Not in _their_ rooms, but in their respective rooms. Separately. He desperately needed to ice his knee.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Schweinsteiger. Our hotel is booked, unfortunately—” she paused. “—due to the arrival of Die Mannschaft.”

He swore she was struggling to keep from laughing, and he narrowed his eyes at her, daring her to break her placid countenance.

Luckily for her, her colleague pulled her to the side, and they exchanged whispers. Staring at them both seemed to do nothing.

Eventually, he gave up and smiled ahead at nothing, defeated by the turn of events until finally, _Suzette_ called him forward. She was outright smirking at him now, and that was when Bastian was struck with a sense of familiarity. But, he couldn’t quite place why.

It was all very vague to him.

She was pretty in an objective way. She might have been a model, and he might have seen her ad somewhere, but he was sure he’d seen her before in person. Not that it mattered, he supposed, and he shook the thoughts from his head.

He attempted a more genuine smile when she handed him a key and offered her apologies, and he experienced only confusion when she winked at him.

Had he known her?

Bemused but not curious enough to ask forthright, Bastian held his smile and took the stairs to his room, avoiding the elevators.

.

The door made a clicking noise as it unlocked, and Lukas jerked up from his position on the bed. The feelings of _not right_ sent adrenaline through him and he stood in defense.

He preemptively called out to whoever was intruding on his privacy, “Who is it? This room is occupied.”

Was it the hotel staff, he thought, but dismissed it. He condemned the thought entirely when he saw, halfway in the door already, Bastian come into his view.

He felt caged all of a sudden, and it sent his adrenaline even higher. His heart raced, and his eyes constricted and darted, cataloguing potential escape routes. The bay window grew increasingly tempting as Bastian stood wordless in front of him.

By the shock mirrored on his face, it was apparent that Bastian didn’t plan their meeting.

And, just as swiftly as it came, the waves of adrenaline left him, and he felt weak. So, so weak.

.

Once it had become too awkward to stand there staring at Lukas like a man coming from the desert to an oasis, Bastian made to hoist his bags back over his shoulder. Stiffening his back, he mumbled, “Sorry. This was a mistake. The girl—I mean. It was—” He took a breath and felt swords running through his lungs. Struggling through the sharp emotions that coursed within him, he managed to apologize, “I’m sorry.”

.

Slowly, Lukas’ tongue worked its way around his uncertainty.

“It’s okay.”

Bastian’s eyebrows shot up like he hadn’t expected him to speak. But, eventually, that feeling too would go away, and he said, “See you later.”

“See you later,” he parroted.

Bastian nodded at him.

.

He took a few steps and ducked into a nearby hallway that split off from where his room—no, Lukas’ room—was, leaning against the walls for support as he went. Finally, finding some semblance of privacy, his legs gave out, and he dropped where he stood. He kept his head in between his knees and just focused on breathing.

.

Their anticlimactic reunion left so much to be desired that Lukas was sore with it.

Bastian wasn’t entirely distant, but sometimes, it felt like they were more painfully aware of each other than before, and it sucked so fucking much not to close the distance between them. Casually walk across the field to him and throw his arm over his shoulder like he always did, laughing and making him laugh.

He planned to respect Bastian’s personal space, he really did. He swore up and down and to his  maker that he did, but then, Bastian made a really stupid joke—he couldn’t even remember what—, but he couldn’t help but laugh.

He laughed so hard and so completely, the fond adoration he felt spilled out from his fingertips and he couldn’t _not_ bring him close and press their foreheads together. He was helpless and weak, and he gave in.

He gave in until he saw the instant that Bastian found clarity and his eyes flitted off to the side, anywhere but at Lukas.

Letting go of Bastian, it looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. So, Lukas didn’t.

.

With his mind elsewhere for the rest of the season, Lukas never found his focus and the loan ended on a bittersweet note. He was headed back for Arsenal, but he knew it wasn’t for long either.

It was the life he made in London that stayed his hand, but it was the unspoken possibilities and unfulfilled promised that forced him to sign the contract to seal his move to Galatasaray.

He looped the L to his given name.

_Monika was already prepared to move with Louis back to Cologne in their old neighborhood. London was never home for her, try as she did._

Trembling, he pulled up to bring his S short.

_Then there was Santi… Mesut… Oli… everyone. His teammates and friends._

He pressed down hard in his first stroke, halfway to a P.

_He wouldn’t see Per anymore. Rarely, if at all._

Looping again, he drew another O.

_Lord help him, he wanted to stay a Gunner, but—_

Carefully, and with great effort, he formed a K.

_This wasn’t the first time he had to leave somewhere he loved for the sake of his future, for the sake of his football._

He dotted his I hard enough to break the flatness of paper, but no one seemed to notice.

There was no going back now. He had signed himself away. He lifted his eyes and made it a point to smile as he made eye contact with everyone else in the room, as if this was the greatest idea he’d ever had.

He wasn’t running away from anything. (That’s what Mesut thought.)

He wasn’t running away. But, there was some consolation in the transfer. Traitorously, he couldn’t deny a certain relief it brought him to know he’d be tucked away in Turkey while Bastian made something of himself at Manchester United, a move that Lukas had trouble believing when he first heard of it. He wished him luck anyway.

Things would be better. He was sure of it. For the both of them.

.

His agent was worried about his move from the Bundesliga to the Premier League, but the large fee generated from the transfer quieted him somewhat.

Bastian, on the other hand, was practiced in making bad decisions as of late. Of course, this was on a different scale than having ‘just one more beer’ to go with his dinner.

Sarah told him it was a common case of regrets following an emotional outburst and Lukas would understand, but Bastian couldn’t bring himself to believe her. And, she had left it at that. Ever since he’d found out that she was the one who orchestrated their hotel meeting and reacted _badly_ , she made good on her promise to give up on her meddling. Her heart was in the right place, but he took it out on her anyway.

It was not his proudest moment. Neither was his idea to agree to his manager’s idea of finally writing a book, agreeing that they’d gloss over any parts pertaining to his relationship with Lukas.

He was a mess, and he questioned if this was one of the times where, if he loved it, he had to let it go. Based on Lukas’ actions, it seemed like letting go was something Lukas wanted him to do.

He tried not to take Lukas’ transfer to the Super Lig personally, but damn it if it didn’t hurt anyway.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for those who poked and prodded me into updating. I really appreciate it.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: After the sad match that was GERFRA and fighting the good fight, that is… fighting my denial regarding schweinski’s possible international retirement… and then considering the rumors about Basti’s all too soon wedding, I decided to change up my storyline. Go forth, radio silence. I call upon thee. I hate life. I, at least, have the end in sight again. :/

**State of the Union**

.

They called him, ‘ _Mr. Calm_.’ Bastian had no idea why.

That wasn’t true.

Bastian _knew_ why they chose that particular nickname for him. He _knew_. He just didn’t like it. And, it made his left eye twitch to hear his new teammates get up in arms about it over and over again and tell _other_ people how he got the nickname, spinning more and more elaborate tales over time.

 _How could he not be pissed_ , they’d always say.

 _How_ could _he_ , he’d always think. It was a clean tackle and a skillful one at that. He’d been favoring his left knee the entire match, and they took advantage of that.

Once upon a time, he would’ve sworn up and down that the other side was playing dirty, but he’d grown to appreciate good sportsmanship. A good play was a good play was a good play. He’d give them that much.

He supposed it was better than being called ‘Grandpa’ or some variation thereof. He’d been playing soccer internationally while some of them were still in grade school after all. It would serve him right, too, all those years of calling Michael and Oliver ‘old.’

He really had been such a little shit back then.

He _was_ aware, though. He _knew_ other players his age were tendering their retirement and not transferring across bodies of water to a different league, but he had transferred, and he was there, and he was going to do his best to make his mark for however long he was planning to stay.

For however long he _could_ stay.

Confidentially, before the transfer had finished, he had disclosed to the doctors at Bayern that his knee wasn’t bothering him as much as it used to, but he wasn’t confident he could play the full ninety minutes that would be required in a full match. They looked at him like he wasn’t making any sense and hurried him out the door and back onto the pitch before he could explain a word.

He missed the old team doctor then, regretted his undeserving departure, too little, too late.

The doctors at Manchester United turned out to be no less dismissive than the ones at Bayern and scared Bastian more than a little. They had overseen his initial physical to clear him for the transfer, cold hands, clinical, and with eyes that seemed to know what was really wrong with him. They passed him though. He must have been fine.

Bastian wondered what van Gaal thought about that.

.

Over two thousand miles away, Lukas was overwhelmed by the different environment.

He was born in Poland, grew up in Germany, and had most recently played in England _before_ being loaned out to Inter Milan in Italy.

But, Turkey, Turkey was invigorating in a different kind of way.

He missed home, of course. Back there, he had been a striker, a game changer, a hero, a Prince at his zenith; then somehow he became a clown, a joker, a substitute. He grimaced, not wanting to go down that path again. That was behind him.

Here, they called him, ‘ _Panzer_.’

They let him start. They let him do his job. They let him score goals.

They gave him a new identity. A new purpose again.

.

The clock ticked blindly.

.

Fall had a cold that chilled bones, never mind hearts.

Winter brought a colder silence.

By spring, the old reemerged again, recognizable once more as ice melted away.

They existed around each other.

Their fortunes were changing.

.

They hadn’t said anything to each other that mattered in months, and Jogi announced the official team for the 2016 UEFA Euro Cup on the cusp of summer.

.

Mesut found Bastian in the city, and they took a plane to Germany together.

Sitting in the window seat, he couldn’t help but feel like Mesut was making sure he actually arrived in Germany and hadn’t escaped to anywhere else.

He admitted he was nervous, but he wasn’t going to shirk his responsibilities. Nothing was going to prevent him from fulfilling his role as captain, not even the looming dreadful feeling that Bastian now associated with Lukas. It was awful. He didn’t want to feel that way about Lukas at all.

Truly, he was relieved when Lukas was named as part of the 2016 team, happy for him. He was especially happy he was doing fantastically at Galatasaray, not that Bastian spent too much time online, checking up on Lukas and hoping Lukas was doing the same with him and worrying because Bastian was not okay. He was not.

It had gotten so bad that he was forced to leave Man Utd in the middle of the season for treatment and rehab. Twice.

He shifted in his seat the entire flight, bouncing his left leg restlessly until he could feel Mesut’s eyes on him, willing him to stop in his own quiet way. He didn’t stop for too long, though.

.

Despite flying many times and knowing there’d be a wait, Bastian stood up the moment the seat belt lights flickered off. He stretched as much as he could, already feeling the heat from inside the cabin.

Predictably, walking the short distance in the sun from the plane to the airport, he sweltered in his jacket and quickly decided to pull it off.

His shirt clung annoyingly, and he ignored Mesut’s mocking whistles; _he_ had already shed his outer layers.

“Did they send someone to pick us up?”

“We sometimes had to call a cab,” Mesut commented in return.

He pulled out his phone. “Got it.”

“It’s fine,” he muttered, waving him off. “Just relax.”

Bastian wanted to tell him he was relaxed, but he had his arms crossed aggressively across his chest, muscles taut and ready to spring.

As Bastian followed Mesut outside to wait for their car, another wave of oppressive heat hit him hard. It was going to be hot this summer. Perhaps France would be more temperate; he hoped. As much as Bastian hated the cold, this heat was pushing his limits even more so.

Within minutes, he was swiping at his forehead.

“It’s not that bad.”

Bastian griped. “It’s hot.”

“It’s humid.”

“Yeah, that, too.”

“What. Manchester didn’t prepare you for that?”

“Humidity is nothing like the rain.”

“Looks like you’re drenched.”

“Looks like you’re…” Bastian glared at Mesut. Even down to his undershirt, he at least looked comfortable. Bastian damned his shitty internal body temperature regulation. It obviously wasn’t working as well as it should. “Fine.” He glared at him again for good measure.

“Thanks.”

“Did they say how long?”

“Why? Got somewhere to go?”

The _someone to meet_ part of the questioning was left out but still hung between them.

“No,” he said, bitterly honest.

Mesut gave him a thoughtful, pitying look, and Bastian scowled resolutely.

“You don’t know,” he whispered.

“No,” he said. “I don’t.” There was a pause, during which he and Bastian spotted the car. Just before it pulled up to them, he stated, “But, this is the Euro Cup. You two don’t get to tiptoe around each other and pretend the other one’s not there this time.”

“I never—”

He shot him down with an impatient look. “This is the Euro Cup,” he emphasized. “This could be the last chance you get.” Everything he could say hung in the air. But, for good measure, he decidedly added a simple, “Captain.”

Because, of course, Mesut was talking about the Cup.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Again, so I didn’t exactly plan the silence/rift between them like this. Just had to speed it up if the rumors are true. After this story, I honestly don’t know what I’ll do. Thank you for loving this story when I could not bring myself to love it.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: 2016 Euro Cup. Just read it.

**State of the Union**

.

Bastian suffered a severe lack of foresight that prevented him from taking a separate car to the hotel. If he had thought more of the situation, he might have spared himself from some truly spectacular displays of tactlessness. 

"We can talk about it if you want," Mesut repeated, after prying scarce bits and pieces of information from Bastian.

"I don't."

"Because it's not my business? Or because you were being stupid?"

After a moment, he confessed, "Both. Does it matter?"

"Maybe."

"We're fine."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"And if we ask Poldi?"

"We're not asking Poldi."

"But, if we did."

"We won't."

"Because everything's fine?"

"Exactly."

At a standoff, the two stared at each other in silence.

"So... Huge fan. But, are you two getting out? We've been idling in front for a good five minutes now."

From the front seat, they could see their driver grip his steering wheel, meter still ticking.

.

At the first morning practice, Germany's captain mentally took stock of the players present.

Manuel and Thomas stretched to the side of the field. Mats and Benedikt on the bench. Mesut beelined towards Sami to help him set up the cones.

Most of the faces he saw were familiar. Half of them he didn't know so well.

The person he thought he knew best had yet to show.

More than a few moments later, he saw the person come onto the field the same time as Jogi. He wanted to scold him for not arriving earlier, but Jogi didn't seem bothered. More importantly, scolding him meant he would have to talk to him directly, a last resort.

Quizzically, over the course of training, Bastian concluded that his fears of a confrontation were unfounded. Lukas hadn't approached him nor did he seem inclined to. But, he couldn't shake the instinctual feeling that Lukas' gaze only _just_ slid away before Bastian could catch him.

.

Days later at their first round pre-match interview, Jogi spoke in front of reporters and fans to defend his appointment of Lukas to the national team yet again, even despite Lukas' announcement of retirement.

With his nostrils flared, Jogi eloquently stated, "Philipp Lahm was the brain of the German National Team, Bastian Schweinsteiger its face, Per Mertesacker the good conscience—but Poldi has always been the heart and soul."1

.

When it was game time, Lukas didn't play, and Bastian came on at 90'. They still beat Ukraine 2-0.

.

"Since when does Germany's captain only get to come on at the end of a match?"

"Since Jogi decided."

"Or since... how bad is your knee, Basti?"

Bastian froze at his hotel room doorway, not wanting to have the conversation in the hall but also not wanting to invite him in. He took a step back, letting Lukas in, and he awkwardly perched himself on a spot on top of his bed.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"What's there to tell?"

"How long... how long? What does Jogi think?"

Instead of answering, he toed the dark carpet, leaving an imprint in the plush shag, and pulled at the bed sheets.

Since long ago, Bastian noticed Lukas had always held an intensity about him. Now, it appeared highlighted by his reclaimed standing at Galatasaray.

"It's not a big deal."

"You're wrapping your knee all the time now. Sent to rehab twice."

"Have you been stalking me? Isn't that a little pathetic?"

"Don't try to pick a fight with me."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to fight you." In a low voice, it came out as a tired confession. "I'm tired of fighting with you."

Reflexively, he corrected him, "We aren't fighting."

"Then why have you been avoiding me? Never returned my calls?"

"I've been busy."

"I know. You transferred to fucking Manchester United? You _love_ Bayern. What is going on with you?"

The entire time, Lukas stayed near the door, but he was advancing now, gaining footing. Bastian had to make him back off; he didn't want to talk about it.

"You _loved_ Die Mannschaft, but you're still retiring," he countered, answering in a way. His jaw muscles clenched.

It worked for a moment. Lukas faltered; he almost seemed wounded. But, he wasn't completely without measures.

"When we were twenty, we wanted to conquer the world with our football, and we did that two years ago. After everything... it's different now. Life doesn't have to end after retirement. I want to work towards different goals. _I'm_ different, and other things can make me just as happy as winning the World Cup."

"Like what?"

Bastian almost willed him to say it. Dared him. Wanted to hear it from him. Or, maybe he just wanted to keep hearing him talk. It had been so long.

He swallowed thickly; Lukas had silently moved to stand in front of him.

He let his eyes fall shut without pretense and felt something light brush his brow.

Eyes still shut, he heard the sound of a door closing

.

Bastian got a congratulatory text message from Miro after the match against Poland for playing a clean game. He didn't think Miro was right before, but either he and Lukas were bad influences or Miro was just better at hiding the fact that he was a bastard.

.

Most storms give warning; Bastian and Lukas weren't so courteous.

In the match against Slovakia, spectators braced themselves as Lukas prepared to come onto the field. It was obvious to everyone in the stands and the commenttators that he had had his struggles, most notably at London, but reports from Turkey hailed his return to form. They wanted to judge for themselves.

Then, four minutes after Lukas was put onto the field, Jogi made for a nostalgic play. Bastian Schweinsteiger had joined Lukas Podolski onto the field, and there were murmurings of years past.

Unfortunately, the game ended in cold silence between the pair.

The team, as a whole, managed to score 3-0, but they couldn't bring themselves to revel in the victory fully, knowing that at least two members of their team were at unrest.

Again, Bastian found Lukas at his door and found himself in the same position as two weeks ago. "You played like shit," he harangued.

"So did you."

"We both played like shit," he amended.

"You shouldn't have been playing at all."

"That's up to Jogi."

Lukas took a slow breath in. "You're overworking yourself. I couldn't pass the ball to you."

"You couldn't trust me."

"Accidents happen all the time."

"We used to be in sync."

"We still are. That's why I know the shit you're trying to pull. How did you even get cleared for the tournament? Weren't you out because of your knee still?"

"I heal fast."

"Bull shit."

Bastian crossed his arms. "I'm going to be playing whether you think I should or not."

"You aren't going through all those treatments you did for Rio again."

"I'll do what I have to do."

"Basti, please."

"No."

"Then, I'll do what I have to do."

When Lukas left this time, Bastian watched him go.

.

Bastian had a lot to think about as he sat on the bench, watching his teammates play against Italy. It was going to go to tiebreaker, he was sure. What he hadn't predicted was Sami's groin injury at half time.

Jogi nodded at Bastian to start warming up and switch on.

To his credit, Bastian hesitated. Half a match may push him over his limit. But, Jogi needed a man, and he wasn't dead yet.

When full time was called, and they all lined up to take their kicks in the penalty shootout, he thought about telling someone that maybe he shouldn't be doing this.

His knee was on fire, but it was already his turn. It was too late to back out. Prodded forward by Mats, he took his position automatically.

As he took his kick, the back of his mind knew that it was 2-2, and he could put them at the advantage again, but he didn't, lifting the ball too far out to the left of the goal. He prayed he wouldn't have to disappoint again.

Somehow, one after the other, his teammates pulled it together. Jonas scored the final penalty, leaving them winners at 1-1 (6-5).

Bastian unceremoniously sat himself down onto the field when the game was called in their favor. He hoped not to draw too much attention, gesturing for Mats to come over so Mats could call their medic over on Bastian's behalf.

Cool hands assessed his right leg, and he hated his body more than anything in that moment. Over the sounds of concern, he heard the words "pulled ligament."

He was escorted off the field as a "precaution," and he could feel the worry roll off the team in waves, their euphoria dampened by the news of their captain's injury.

But, that didn't stop Jogi from putting Bastian's name into the starting XI five days later in their semi-final match against France.

.

Lukas was furious. He was righteous anger and out of place.

Negativity shrouded the entire team and staff, their spirits smoldered while Lukas was flame.

After today's match, there would be no fight for third place or chance at redemption. The Euros were over for them, and tomorrow, they would be on their way home.  

Tonight, they had time to lick their wounds.

But, for Lukas, tonight he could either do or must resign himself to waiting for another opportunity that he knew would not likely come again.

Tonight, when he arrived at the familiar door, there is no answer.

So, he sat, and he waited.

When he caught sight of two people struggling beneath the weight of their third companion further down the hall, he took action to relieve them.

"Poldi," he said in acknowledgement. Thomas was unusually stiff as he transferred Bastian over to him.

"Do you have his keys?"

"Somewhere in his pockets."

"Thanks, Tommy."

"He didn't drink that much."

"I didn't say anything."

"I know. But just so you know. He's in bad shape."

"I know."

"See you two tomorrow morning?"

"No point in sticking around," he responded.

Thomas squared his shoulders and tightened his back as Manuel steadied himself.

In one smooth motion, Lukas lifted the key card from Bastian's back left pocket and let them both in.

Laying him onto his side of the bed, Lukas settled onto his own side, muttering, "You idiot."

"You gonna kick me when I'm down?"

Lukas startled into alertness. He didn't realize Bastian was awake. He had been so still before.

"You want to tell me how stupid I am, go ahead. I already know."

"That's not why I came here."

He grunted once and rolled over to lay on his side, unable to look at him.

Emboldened, Lukas followed and shifted behind him to hold him, arms wrapped around his middle.

Bastian let something out in a shudder and whispered, "I'm sorry."

Lukas pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. "I missed you."

"I don't think I can do this."

He still held on.

"I can't do this right now," he said again, hands tightly gripping Lukas' forearm.

Knowing it was a long shot anyway, that it would work this time unlike all the rest, he respectfully acquiesced, "Okay." A moment of silence stretched painfully between them until he spoke again, "Is it okay if we talked again then? Just talked?"

"Okay."

"Can I message you tomorrow? After we leave?"

"Okay."

"Will you return my calls? Answer when I call?"

"Okay."

"Okay."

Lukas covered both of Bastian's hands with his right and squeezed.

Before they drifted off, somewhere in the back of Bastian's mind, he could almost remember them falling asleep like this not too long ago. And, he thought, he might have finally figured out how he was able to make it to bed the night of their game against Hungary.

.

_1 From the recent 11Freunde interview_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy belated birthday to me. Happy belated birthday to you.  
> 1\. From the recent 11Freunde interview


	25. Chapter 25

**State of the Union**

.

A/N: How the fck did I write 100K for these idiots.

.

Bastian couldn’t tell who woke up first or when, but Lukas’ phone went off sometime after dawn, alerting them that it was morning and almost time to leave.

Rolling away from him, Lukas hesitated at the edge of the bed with his back hunched, and Bastian watched, entranced.

The muscular lines of his back remained prominent even through his shirt. It was an achingly familiar moment.

He bit his lip in futile attempt to stifle his tumultuous thoughts with pain. He was a mess; he didn’t know what he wanted. No, he knew he wanted Lukas, he just didn’t know how. It was easier, he thought, before. But, ‘before’ was just as bad when he thought about it. ‘Before’ was when they were still in relationships, and he knew himself a fool for considering that as a better alternative. He had no memory for pain, clearly.

Bastian watched as he left his room, watched when he returned before long, and watched as he changed, as if it was a normal thing to do. To come back when there was no logical rhyme or reason to it.

He almost hoped Lukas would break the silence, but there was not much to say, he felt.

Rehash the same arguments, maybe. He didn’t want that, but he didn’t want to lose this either.

He kept his mouth closed, and let Lukas guide him towards the restroom to get ready for his own outbound flight.

At least this time, he was sure there would be a tomorrow for them. There would be a them.

He reminded himself to breathe.

.

_‘Have a safe flight :)’_

_-Thanks. You too! :)_

God, were they a pair of something.

He could feel Mesut reading over his shoulder. Let him look, he thought.

Bastian found no pity in his visage, however, when he had dared to look for it.

.

They exchanged more than a handful of simple and silly messages and calls, trying to find their balance again. It was working, in his opinion. His last text to Lukas had been that morning; Lukas had requested he find Mesut and hit him over the head with a newspaper for some reason that both Lukas and Mesut were unwilling to disclose.

Still, there was only so much he could do to compensate for his physical shortcoming.

Following the pre-season physical, he had been semi-forced into rehab for his right knee. They told the media it was a precaution to ready for him the season matches, but the doctors had told van Gaal it was a necessity. And, a week into the therapy, Jogi had contacted him about his thoughts on some newcomers he wanted to bring on as a trial before the major competitions. He had sent him profiles and pictures, and the call had left him desperately trying to find his center again.

He wasn’t worried about his position on the team; he was still captain after all. He was worried about his performance, holding his own. Strategically, Jogi would need to make the most of each player, but he was reaching his limit. Had already hit it if he allowed himself a little truth.

More importantly, he was worried about potentially keeping other newcomers from finding their own place in the team. Who was it that stepped aside in order to let Bastian and Lukas have their moment in the limelight?

Startled, he took a seat at his kitchen counter, feeling the smooth marble under his fingertips.

Bastian had no idea their names. He had his eyes on striving towards his youthful ideals for so long. Many things were able to blindside him as a result, he knew.

He toyed with the idea of calling Lukas. It wouldn’t have been too out of the ordinary within their current boundaries.

He picked up his phone and scrolled past Lukas’ name quickly, not allowing himself a moment to reconsider.

“Basti?” Her voice was light but concerned.

A little too late, Bastian wondered when he last talked to Sarah. Most likely, it had been after he found out about her meddling.

“Basti, are you there? Are you okay?”

He winced guiltily and tried for casual, “Hey, Sarah. I’m fine. Sorry, I just wasn’t sure what to say when you picked up.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine.” Relatively. “I needed to talk to someone.”

“I was hoping… it doesn’t matter. Forget it. I’m happy you still consider me as someone you can talk to.”

Her sincerity made him want to die horribly. “Sorry… about that. It’s been rough.”

“I know. At least a little bit. I’ve been reading some articles. I know I shouldn’t trust what they say, but your knee…? Tobi told me a little bit too after I told him you hadn’t been talking to me.” She paused, apologizing, “Sorry, that was nosy of me, but I was worried, and I wasn’t sure you wanted to keep talking to me?”

“You are amazing, Sarah,” he said, awed.

Another pause. “In a good way?”

“In a good way.” Not for the first time, he knew he didn’t deserve this much patience from Sarah.

“But you are okay, then? Therapy going well?”

“I will be… okay. They’re telling me I’ll be okay if I take it easy,” he hedged.

“Oh, Basti.”

He pushed forward. It was as good as a segue as he was going to get. “I’ve been thinking about retiring.”

“Really?”

“Just from the national team.”

“Oh, well that’s not so bad. Philipp, Per, and…”

“And, Poldi. Yeah. I know.”

“Have you talked to them about this? Any of them?”

“Not yet. Not really. I—I wanted to know what you thought first.”

“Basti, no offense, but since when did you ever want to hear what I think about your career?”

“I just want to get as much input as I can.” Or, since he chickened out of calling Lukas, he didn’t say.

“Well. I don’t really know too much about what’s going on with your injuries, but it would make sense somewhat...”

“What would you do?”

“I can’t really say… It’s not like I’ve been in this kind of position before.”

“Try to pretend?”

“I don’t know. I would ask my teammates, my coach, and not my model ex-girlfriend for advice. Sorry that’s probably not what you want to hear, but it’s true. I don’t have that kind of experience. I mean, usually when I make a decision, it’s money first, then logistics. Money, usually, is the main thing. Can I financially afford to do this? And then, it sorta goes to what I want in the future and how would it affect my future? How does it affect others? Things like that. Normal people things, I guess.” She clicked her tongue to self-chastise. “Right! Do you want to talk to my dad? I told you he still follows you. You might want to hear it from the point of view of a fan?”

“No!” More politely, he offered with a grimace, “No, thank you.”

She chuckled furtively. “I thought not, but if I had to guess, I would say you’re working your way up to asking someone whose opinion you actually care about. And, if you weren’t, then I guess I have to physically hit some sense into you, but I’m trying really hard not to meddle, so please tell me you know what you’re doing.”

Voice flat, he replied, “I know what I’m doing.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You always have to be right, don’t you?”

“I don’t have to be. I just am.”

“And how are _you_?” He made a face, hoping she didn’t think his interest in her was just an afterthought.

“I’m good. Not thinking about retiring. Spent the weekend camping with my family. Oh yeah, I moved, actually. Almost forgot to tell you. New apartment is closer to the city. It’s cute. You should come visit when you’re home.”

Bastian made a mental note to send her flowers when he had a chance, a housewarming gift and a thank you, ignoring the voice in his head that suggested he clear it with his manager first. However, as of late, he was feeling resentful towards the media and how much he was scrutinized. “Sure.”

“Any idea when that’ll be?”

He thought about home. He still had the apartment he and Sarah shared, but he had a new apartment here as well. Neither place seemed like home at the moment, and he frowned. “Not sure.”

“Okay, just let me know. It’s a bit of a drive for you from our old place, but not too horrible if there are any issues.”

“Of course.” Of course he knew what she meant by ‘issues.’

“Great.”

“Great,” he echoed.

Sarah just laughed at him. “Mhmm. Well, about time to get on with it. Goodbye, Basti, you dork.”

“Bye, Sarah.”

He ended the call but kept his phone in his hand.

.

Bastian let another week pass but couldn’t find a good moment to introduce the topic.

Ironically, it was a message from Lukas casually mentioning that Jogi had reached out to him to take a look at the new potential candidates for the next international break that set him off.

Without much further thought, Bastian called him, and by the almighty grace of God, Lukas picked up on the third ring.

Slightly panicking, he blurted, “Why aren’t you asleep?”

Lukas hadn’t even hesitated to point out, “It’s eleven… in the morning. Sunday, but still. I don’t know why everyone thinks you’re the smart one.”

He chuckled weakly. Because they didn’t recognize him for the mess he was without Lukas around. “Sorry.”

“What’s up, Basti?”

He could hear the clattering of dishware in the background and figured Lukas was either indulging in a late breakfast or early lunch. Swallowing the bravado he was about to spew, he went all in, “I’m thinking about retiring.”

The pauses were even worse on his nerves with Lukas at the other end of the line than Sarah. “From?”

“Have you talked to Jogi?”

“Yes, but not about this.”

“Okay then.”

“Not yet. It’s something I was just thinking about now.”

“Oh really.”

“Yeah.” He was aware he could see—hear?—right through him but it didn’t bother him much.

“But you plan to?”

“Maybe? Depends on how this conversation goes.”

“Oh.”

“I was thinking you could help.”

Not unkindly, Lukas countered, “How do you want me to help?”

“I don’t know. What are you thinking right now?”

“That I should soak my dishes before I wash them. That I need to buy more tea because I can’t escape that even after leaving London. And, honestly, that it objectively might be a good idea for you, but I know you wouldn’t be thinking this if you weren’t doing rehab.”

“Of course not.”

“Of course not,” he agreed.

Bastian tapped his fingers onto the countertop. His short nails clacked along to fill in the silence until he finally spoke again, “No one would think about retiring if they didn’t have to.”

“And you think you have to this time?”

“Not just that.” He stared down at his knee as if it betrayed him. “I think it’s the right thing to do.”

“Why?”

“My knee?”

“And?”

“It’s good for the team?”

“And?”

“And, I haven’t been doing as much here as I wanted to,” he admitted, shocking himself with the revelation, surprised but not really surprised that Lukas knew himself better than he did. Sometimes, it was just like that with Lukas.

Lukas hummed noncommittally. “When I was at Bayern, back at Cologne, then at Arsenal, even at Inter, I thought a lot about just walking away from everything.”

“Even Bayern?”

“Even Bayern…,” Bastian picked up on some bitterness but said nothing. “But I didn’t. When you’re in that kind of headspace, there’s a lot to think about. A lot of time spent thinking. Couldn’t really let go until some things changed though. But, you knew that. Anything change lately for you, Basti?”

If he had to sum it up, he would say what changed was how he imagined himself in ten years and what he wanted, a little changed and adapted to fit how he was now, take it or leave it. “I think—I know I want something else.”

“And you’d be happy with it?”

“Yeah. I’d be happy with him.”

“Oh, my God. You can’t be serious. You asshole. You’re doing this now?”

Bastian couldn’t tell if Lukas was happy or mad at him. It made him nervous. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

“God, you asshole. You have the worst timing ever,” he teased a bit painfully.

“What? You think I’m talking about you?” He teased back, more at ease now that he knew Lukas wasn’t mad.

“You couldn’t wait until I could see you in person before you have an epiphany?”

“I didn’t really ask for it.”

“You’re a piece of work. Fuck, but I’m stuck with you.”

“Thank God.”

“We’ll work it out, right?”

“We will.”

.

There is a date set for August 31, 2016. A beginning and an end.

.

He stared out into the stands with the fans cheering for them, turning in place to come full circle.

A figure jogged over to him. “Schweini,” he acknowledged

“Luki.”

“We did it.”

“Good thing, too. Our last time.”

“Kinda like the first time.”

“You know what else is kinda like the first time?”

Bastian vaguely gestured to the revelry around them, the fans, their team, the cameras.

Taking out his phone from Lord knew where, Lukas hooked his arm around Bastian’s neck and pressed their foreheads together, silently letting him know that he was loved. Kissed him, too, positions reversed from two years prior.

This time, it was Bastian with the widest grin on his face as Lukas held his lips against him.

.

Ten years ago, they couldn’t fathom a future beyond football.

.

A/N: The shitty thing is because I take so long to update, even I forget what I write. After some debate, I think this is a good place to end it. There are loose ends, but what is one story compared to many? No, they haven't come out, but do they really need to? There are pros and cons to including that in this story. Thank you for sticking with me until the end! I appreciated all the encouragement I had for this fic. I am sorry it had to come to an end. I will almost be a part of this fandom and still write for it, of course. Just in need of inspiration, and maybe a beta. Will definitely come through this for continuity issues and grammar and whatnot. But, for now, I think I'll be happy that this story is largely finished? Let me know if you have anything you want me to address or something you think I greatly should have included. I dk. It's late, like 3am, yo. I need sleep. And fck yeah, I know my A/N bumped it up to there, but 100K! How even. Peace, y'all. Ramblings of something who should sleep but refuses.

Literally this story took me 3 years? HOLY FUCK I JUST REALIZED I STARTED POSTING FOR THIS STORY 3 YEARS AGO. Oh, my Lord, this is some procrastination. But... you legit don't know how long my other stories took, so you're welcome.

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If you really need an ending where there is discussion about them coming out. This may help. Or not. /shrugs. Just had a little bit of fun with it because I could. And because I wanted to hit 100K legit on the counter because I am v v petty. Don't look at me. I can have my fun, damn it. 

> _Transcript of a post-match recording from the Germany v Finland friendly on August 31, 2016, courtesy of FX Sports._
> 
> **Interviewer** : ( _into the camera_ ) Mr. Muller, what can _you_ tell me about what happened today? It's amazing, isn't it? Such lovely closure.
> 
> **Muller** : ( _sighs_ ) I mean, I already knew. A lot of us did or at least thought so, not that it mattered. They told us a few days ago, actually, when we all met up. All dramatic and shit. They could’ve made it more subtle today maybe, but in for a penny in for a pound?
> 
> **Interviewer** : Excuse me?
> 
> **Muller** : What.
> 
> **Interviewer** : What are you talking about?
> 
> **Muller** : ( _a pause_ ) Are we not talking about the major schweinski goals today? Literal and figurative?
> 
> **Interviewer** : This is a post-match interview. What is schweinski?
> 
> **Muller** : Holy shit, an interviewer who actually wants to talk about the game? Okay, sorry. Let me just—holy shit. Manu! This woman actually wants to talk about the game! Get over here! This is crazy. Sorry, you just have no idea. I just—
> 
> **Neuer** : ( _offscreen_ ) No fucking way!
> 
> **Muller** : Yes way! What’s your name?
> 
> **Interviewer** : Serena.
> 
> **Muller** : Serena wants to know what we think about what happened today! And she actually means the match!
> 
> **Neuer** : ( _coming onscreen_ ) No shit?
> 
> **Interviewer** : What’s going on? What is schweinski?
> 
> **Muller** : This sweet summer child, am I right?
> 
> **Neuer** : ( _loudly_ ) Let me tell you about what those fuckers put us through. First of all, I had to bleach my eyes when I saw Basti the morning after, I—
> 
> **Ozil** : ( _coming onscreen_ ) Hey guys, I heard Tommy say you were actually talking about the match over here—
> 
> **Neuer** : This fucker knew, too. Didn’t tell us shit or give us a heads up? I mean, we can joke about it now, but fuck. 
> 
> **Muller** : ( _winks_ ) _Butt_ _fuck_ , indeed, eh?
> 
> **Ozil** : —But I guess not. See you later.
> 
> **Neuer** : ( _grabs Ozil’s jersey_ ) Oh no you don’t. Okay, now let me tell you all the shit about schweinski. _Then_ , we can talk about the shit they did today.  
> 
> _[The camera zooms out to accommodate the people n the shot. Schweinsteiger and Podolski are briefly caught in the background periphery with one arm each over the other, clearly giving an enthusiastic interview to the many, many reporters surrounding them. Low is adjacent to them, appearing to talk over his two players with emphatic hand gestures.]_
> 
> _._
> 
> _Comments taken from a photo posted by the official DFB facebook, twitter, and instagram, captioned: We can't even deny we were shipping them now that we know they won't get mad at us. Happy Schweinski!  
>  _
> 
> _101K likes 27K comments_
> 
> **xxxlachick** this is some bullshit
> 
> **noyoustopit** @xxxlachick yeah it's some bullshit that it took this long do you realize how long i've been waiting christ i'm old
> 
> **poldigirl192** omggg it's real. we're sure they're not 'joking' right?
> 
> **enterspace** this is better than 2014
> 
> **lalaloser** i'm so happy this year came after 2015
> 
> **pinkisthenewpink** @lalaloser don't you mean 2016
> 
> **lalaloser** @pinkisthenewpink we don't talk about 2016
> 
> **chicksbeforedicks** this is the best birthday ever
> 
> **fromyouraveragegirl** yo, where do i apply for this job tho. dfb, hmu.
> 
> _._


End file.
